


Deserted

by InMyEyes2014



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-13 23:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 50
Words: 165,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3400004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InMyEyes2014/pseuds/InMyEyes2014
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Liam Jones and Lieutenant Killian Jones have been tasked with removing the Princess Emma of Mist Haven from the dangers of an imminent curse and bringing her to the prince she is to marry. When danger strikes them at sea, Killian finds himself stranded with the princess on an island far off their course as they await rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Leaving

The light from the morning sun had just broken through the trees of the thickly wooded forest as the royal carriage entered its second hour of its journey. Prince David rested comfortably on the seat next to his wife, Snow, consolingly touching her hand as the time with their daughter grew smaller. Time was a precious thing, he surmised as he watched his daughter’s pensive face from across the way. She was clearly distressed about the turn of events, feeling both unwanted and abandoned as the carriage took her away from the only home she had known to a new future.

“I’ve heard that it is a lovely ship,” Snow said, breaking the silence with the simple statement. “And I have heard that the Southern Isles are quite a wonderful kingdom.” Tears were a constant in the corners of her eyes and she dabbed at them constantly with her handkerchief.

“I’m sure that they are, Mother,” Emma said softly. Her delicate fingers ran along the lace edge of her dress’s bodice. “I’ll be happy there.”

David cleared his throat and looked sadly at his daughter’s forlorn expression. It was not his first choice to send her away, as that meant he might never see her again. However, danger was imminent and try as they might, he saw no other option if their daughter was to survive. He’d commissioned the best of the naval ships to carry her to the land where none of the danger could touch her, arranging that after her passage she should be married to one of the princes of that land to ensure that she would be well provided for if the worst were to happen to their own kingdom.

“You know that…” he said, feeling that they should fill these last moments with explanations and conversation rather than let the thoughts of what if overtake them.

“I know,” she said, turning her face to the window. “There is no choice.”

“I wanted so much for you,” he said. “I wanted you to find your true love and rule this kingdom and your mother and I had hoped to do. You were to give me grandchildren and grace our dinner table with your beautiful family.”

Emma faced the man and smiled sweetly. “It would have been a wonderful life,” she commented. Everything in her was screaming, every part of her body seeking escape from that carriage. Perhaps if she opened the door and jumped, she could run away from this approaching curse and…That’s where the fantasy ended. She did not know where she would go or what she would do. Her mother had survived in the woods as a bandit. Her father had slayed dragons. She had done needlepoint. She was not a hero like them. She was a pampered princess who had only just begun to explore her life outside the confines of the palace walls.

The road was narrow and rough, jostling them as the horses strained to reach the port before nightfall. David had worried over the route they should take, knowing that the dangers of the forest were far more than he wanted to admit to his wife and daughter. He wanted to say something to her, give her more fatherly advice that he might not ever get to say again. None of the words seemed right though.

“You’ll be a beautiful bride,” her mother commented, looking wistful for a moment. “I wish…”

Emma looked down at her hands. “I don’t want to do this,” she said finally. “I…”

“If there was any other way,” David told her. “We would do it, but you must stay safe. All of our advisors have warned that this curse is unstoppable. We won’t remember ourselves or you. But someday you’ll…”

“I will do my best, Father,” she said, giving up the last look at the forest to rest her head on the seat back. The sound of distant cannon fire was unnerving, but she tried to put it out of her mind along with the thoughts of what would become of her parents.

A princess was not supposed to know about the affairs of state that her father described the night he told her of their plan for her escape. She was supposed to practice her needlework, dancing, and musical talents. Her sole job was to become the dutiful and loving wife of some far off prince who would protect her land and family through diplomatic efforts. She did not know anything of curses and threats.

At 22, Emma was a beautiful and thoughtful woman, though her parents both admitted a bit too independent. She was practically an old maid in many circles, as she had refused or scared off many of the men who had attempted to pursue her in such fashion. Her mother complained that she must want to be alone. With no other children, Emma was their one shot as an heir. Her survival and eventual children were their focus. As even if there was no curse or war to contend with, she would have to produce an heir to keep their legacy going.

It was late afternoon by the time they arrived at the portside town at the edge of Mist Haven. Though they had stopped briefly for lunch sometime earlier, Emma’s stomach felt unsettled as she saw the tall white sails of the ships docked nearby and stranger still when her father pointed to one with great pride.

“She’s called the Jewel of the Realm,” he explained, having already told her that the ship was quite coveted and one of the recent acquisitions by their kingdom. “You won’t find a finer vessel anywhere.”

“It seems a bit smaller than I imagined,” Snow said, cupping her hands over her eyes from the late afternoon sun. “I thought that such a ship would be twice as big.”

Emma fell in line behind her parents, her features shielded from the glare by one of the attendants carrying a silk parasol for her as she walked. Many of the locals watched in fascination as the royal family disembarked from the carriage and began the walk toward the ship. Three groomsmen followed with Emma’s trunks and another carried her wrap since she refused to wear it in the unseasonably warm temperatures.

A tall dark haired captain bowed to her parents and waved his arm magnanimously to welcome them aboard the ship that she had to admit seemed too small for it to be so coveted. She followed along and stood next to her mother as her father and the captain continued to speak of the state of affairs in the navy. He also introduced them to his lieutenant, a younger man with the same blue eyes and dark thatch of hair under his hat.

“I’d like to present my daughter, Emma,” David said to the captain, sweeping his arm to indicate the blonde daughter who had not yet spoken to the men lined up in respectful greeting. She dipped her head in response as the blue eyed man gave a short bow to her and smiled warmly.

“Welcome aboard, your highness,” he said. “I am Captain Liam Jones. We aren’t used to transporting royalty, but I trust that you will be comfortable during your journey.”

“Thank you, Captain Jones,” Emma said, blinking as she realized that her time with her parents was drawing to a close. Turning to her mother, she simply placed a small kiss to her cheek. “Mother, I shall miss you,” she said. Her mother nodded and stepped back to allow her husband a chance to say goodbye.

“Father,” she said, wishing she could rush at his arms and let him hold her tight. She’d done that so many times as a child, scared of storms and nightmares. His arms had seemed so solid and protective, wrapping her in a safe cocoon. It was not an appropriate action for a woman of her age, but she longed for that safety again.

“Emma,” he said. “We will be together soon.” He kissed her forehead and turned abruptly to leave her.

Standing there as her belongings were taken below, she could feel the eyes of the crew upon her. Taking the captain’s offered arm, she walked away from her retreating parents and let herself be led by him on a quick tour of the ship. He seemed to ignore the tears that stung in her eyes and the broken tone as she complimented the ship’s accommodations.

“I should see to us getting off safely,” he told her as he led her to the room that would be hers. “My lieutenant will see to you shortly. If there is anything we can provide for you, please don’t hesitate to request it, your highness.”

“I’m grateful to you, captain,” she said, dipping herself in to a curtsey. “Please don’t let me keep you from your work.”

***AAA***

Emma and her belongings were well out of harm’s way as the final preparations were made to set sail immediately. She had been removed from the deck as her parents departed for their carriage, knowing that she could not stand the sight of them growing distant as she waited to be taken to a new life in another land.

As Captain Jones had informed them, the Jewel of the Realm was not a ship meant for transporting royal family members or dignitaries. He had moved his own belongings to the smaller cabin, leaving her with the largest of the private quarters. However, it was far from the accommodations she had back at the palace. A narrow bed stood in one corner of the room with drawers underneath to hold some of her belongings. Shelves of books and journals lined another wall and a table with two chairs sat in the middle of the room, the table bolted to the floor to avoid shifting in rougher seas.

She knew she should unpack, as there was no way she would allow a naval officer to touch her most intimate and delicate possessions. However, she was not motivated to do much but sit and think of her situation. The sounds of the men hustling about, sails raising and orders shouted seemed almost a comfort from the doubts in her head.

A sharp knock interrupted her and she granted the unknown person permission to enter. “Lieutenant,” she said, nodding to the younger of the men she assumed to be related. “Is there some news I should know?”

“No, your highness,” he said, stepping into the room with a small basket. “Your mother left this for you and I thought it might bring you some comfort as we set sail. I believe it is a bit of food.”

She nodded to the table for him to place it there. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re very kind to take time away from the duties on deck to deliver this to me, Lieutenant.”

He settled the covered basket at the center of the table and smiled warmly. “Your comfort and security is to be our priority on this voyage, your highness,” he explained. “Each of the officers have been instructed to do whatever we can to ensure that you are well taken care of during this time.”

She raised an eyebrow of interest toward him. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything other than your rank, sir,” she said, eyeing the stiffly pressed uniform that he wore. “You have a name?”

“Killian Jones,” he said, dipping his head toward her. “I apologize that I did not offer it sooner.”

“No need,” she said, waving off his regret. “As your brother – I take it – has said, you and the crew are not used to having a passenger aboard. And I can assure you that I’m not typically addressed in any formal way or with any stateliness unless we are at an official state function. So please spread the word not to trouble yourselves trying to be so formal with me.”

“I’m afraid that we, or at least I, would not feel right about addressing you in any familiar way, your highness.” Killian smiled as a rosy red blush formed on his face. He made move to go, but stopped himself in front of her. “You recognized that the captain is my brother?”

She grinned back at him. “Yes, the two of your look quite a bit alike and share a name.” She approached the basket and pulled back the soft cloth covering the items. “Thank you for delivering this, Lieutenant Jones. I am a bit hungry.”

“I do apologize,” he said. “We regularly take our meals about this time, but with our…”

“You’re busy,” she concluded. “I fully understand, Lieutenant.”

She nodded at him as he took his leave and removed himself from the room, leaving her with the distinct feeling that he was not all that comfortable in her presence. She’d seen the way his hands shook as he delivered the basket to her table and the way he could not meet her eyes. It’s just the title, she thought as she bit into the bread and pulled out the note her mother had left in the basket. He’s intimidated by her rank and title as most men were around her.

***AAA***

Above deck, the men continued their duties and the port town became less discernible in their wake. Killian stepped up toward his brother to report that he had fulfilled the duty of delivering the basket to the princess. Hands behind their backs, the brothers looked toward the horizon and the familiar glow of the setting sun that illuminated the scattered clouds in bright glows of oranges and pinks.

“Her parents are fools for sending her away,” Liam told his younger brother.

“Then why are we assisting in this?” Killian asked, unsure of his brother’s blatant disregard for the crown’s wishes. “She’s not too desirous to go either.”

“Our orders are to remove her from Mist Haven and the dangers that are imminent.” Liam accepted a map from one of the junior officers with a nod. “I’m merely stating that this is not as cut and dry of a mission as one would hope. Prince David has high hopes that his daughter will be safe in another land.”

Killian surveyed the work of the men pushing a cannon into place. “And you do not agree, brother?” he asked.

“No, I don’t,” Liam admitted. “Princess Emma is going to be in great danger wherever she goes, including the Southern Isles. I should think that she is more likely to be once she marries and ascends to the throne there.” He clucked his tongue at the roof of his mouth. “Such a shame as she is a beautiful woman.”

“That she is,” Killian agreed distractedly. “She’s…”

Liam nudged his brother with his shoulder. “Don’t get any ideas, Killian,” he said forebodingly. “She’s still a royal and our duty is her protection.”

“Of course,” Killian answered. “She is not the sort I should aspire to anyhow.”


	2. Chapter 2

Emma’s first night aboard the ship was a restless experience, as she had to admit that sleep was hard to come by with her mind racing in its thoughts of home and her future. The princess had paced the narrow space of the room several times before she realized that just as she could hear the heavy footsteps of the crew above her and in the hallways that they could probably hear her as well. The letter that her mother had written her was safely folded amongst her belongings, the sight of the paper just as upsetting as the words scrawled across it in looping letters.

The blankets on the bed were warm to the point of discomfort, she discovered as she lay beneath them and stared up at the ceiling. Their wool material was scratchy against her skin and did not remind her of the more delicate bed linens of her home. To say that she missed her bed, her life, would be an understatement. She missed all of those things and then some, but missing them would not bring them closer, she reasoned as she turned on her side and tried a new sleeping position.

As the ship creaked and rocked, the silence of the nightly activities falling over her, she gathered herself and dressed in her simplest of gowns. Donning a cloak that she had been told many times to rid herself of, she made her way down the narrow hallway and toward the ladder up to the deck. Perhaps the fresh air of the sea and the stars overhead would settle her, she thought, remembering when she and her parents took such a long voyage for a wedding of a family friend. Her favorite thing to do had been to stare up at the stars with her father and try to count them before sleep overtook her as it naturally did.

“Your highness,” said a voice, deep and serious. “It is a pleasure to have you aboard.”

Emma spun to see the man behind her, his uniform slightly askew and his hands large compared to the rest of him. “Thank you, sir,” she said, dipping her head in recognition.

“Shouldn’t you be in your bed?” he asked, the large hands bracing himself on either wall of the hallway. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to the princess.” There was a slight lisp to his words, spittle flying out.

“I’m quite alright, thank you,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously. “I was merely wanting some fresh air.”

The man sneered, his eyes seeming black in the darkness of the passageway. “You’re a fine one,” he said, reaching hand out to the sleeve of her dress. “I bet your skin is as silky as your frock.”

Emma snapped her arm away from him. “I don’t think you will be finding that out,” she said, her chin rising a bit in defiance.

His sneer was undeterred and he lunged toward her again. The large hands grasped for her torso, but Emma was quicker and blocked his advance with the heels of her hands. One blow struck his nose and sent blood splattering. Letting out a shallow yelp, she backed away from the man as he crumpled and held his bleeding nose.

“What is the meaning of this?” another voice sounded, this time from the opening to the deck. Emma recognized the soft tone of Killian and turned to see his aghast expression. “Are you alright?” he asked her, looking at the speckles of blood that had landed on her.

“I’m well,” she assured him, flattening herself against the wall to let the lieutenant pass. “It was just a misunderstanding.”

Killian looked back to her incredulously. “Everson,” he barked in a tone that seemed deeper and darker than his young years. “Stand at attention.”

The man with the large hands struggled to straighten himself, one hand still holding his nose. “Yes, sir,” he said in a muffled tone.

Killian yanked the man’s arm down and watched as the blood continued to run down his upper lip. “I don’t know what occurred,” he said, eyeing both of them suspiciously. “But I feel safe in assuming that it was the behavior of Everson that brought on such an event.” His blue eyes narrowed. “You will have an audience with the captain in the morning to explain yourself. In the meantime, I will see that you are secured below so that her highness is not in any danger from you.”

“Lieutenant,” Emma said softly, “that’s not necessary. I…”

Killian ignored her statement and called for another officer to accompany the man down below to what Emma could only imagine was some sort of holding cell. She’d never really considered the idea of justice on a ship, but there must be some form of it, she supposed. Keeping herself there against the wall, she watched the man be marched away and saw Killian turn to face her.

“You should sleep safely,” he said. “He won’t be bothering you again, your highness.”

Emma managed a wavering smile. “I should think not, but I would attribute that more to my defense of myself rather than your show of power,” she admitted. She moved toward the opening to raise herself up on the desk.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice cracking with surprise and worry.

“I was on my way up top to walk about a bit,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him. “That’s where I was headed when…”

“You should not go alone, your highness,” he said. “And his blood is…”

Emma looked downward and felt ill at the sight of the man’s blood on the bodice of her dress, staining it and probably her face and neck with the drying redness. “I…”

He waved his arm to indicate that she should return to the quarters assigned to her. “I will fetch you some water to rinse off with, your highness,” he explained as he walked with her to the white washed cabin and closed the door behind her. He returned moments later with a basin and cloth for her, bowing his head in retreat.

“What will become of him?” Emma asked as she dipped the cloth in the water. “The man…”

Killian looked at her curiously, wondering why she was concerned with a man who had obviously threatened her in some way. “It will not be my decision, your highness,” he admitted. “The captain will determine any appropriate penalty for his actions toward you.”

“Is his injury not enough?” she asked. He noticed that as she tilted her head in question to him that some of her hair had escaped from the clip that held it back. “He did not do more than touch my sleeve.”

He regarded her earnestly concerned expression. “You found that threatening enough to break the man’s nose, your highness. I should think that you would not be too concerned that his punishment would be overly severe.”

She frowned. “I don’t wish to see anyone punished for something that was so minor,” she told him. “I was wishing to be on deck to see the stars and he stopped me. That’s all.”

“Perhaps you should have this discussion with the captain. He can see to it that the man is suitably reprimanded and that you are satisfied with the result.” He did not wait for her response, slipping from the room and leaving her.

***AAA***

Emma did not think of leaving her cabin again until the next morning when one of the officers brought her a simple breakfast. She had thought she might see Killian again, as he was the only officer who had even entered her room or spoken to her at length. While he was clearly intimidated by her place in society, there was something comforting about seeing the same person on a regular basis. Instead, a squat man with dark brown eyes had delivered her food in almost wordless fashion.

She forced herself to eat it slowly, knowing that it might be the only break in the monotony of the day. The food was bland and not nearly as hearty as the dishes she had seen at home, though at least on the ship she was able to eat as she wished without being criticized for taking more than dainty bites. Her parents never said such things, but the men and women of the castle and other nobility were quite strict on such matters.

By the time she had finished the food, she was answering the door to a nervous looking guard who informed her that Captain Jones was waiting for her.

“Your highness,” Liam said, rising from his seat as she entered the room. “Please accept my sincere apologies for any unpleasantness last night. Lieutenant Jones has alerted me that you have some concerns over the treatment of Mr. Everson.”

Emma approached the captain. “I only wish to ensure that he won’t be harmed further,” she said. “His behavior last night resulted in my wounding him physically.”

Liam looked to the guard and dismissed him with a simple gesture. “Your highness,” he said, once they were alone. “Lieutenant…my brother informed me that you broke the man’s nose in your effort to dissuade his actions toward you. Surely you can understand my position that he should be held and removed from this ship at our next docking, your highness.” Liam’s worried blue eyes looked down at the scarred surface of the table he sat at with his papers.

“I have no interest in having him around, Captain Jones,” she said. “I merely want to ensure that he won’t be treated barbarically on my account.”

“I don’t treat any of my men barbarically, your highness,” Liam told her sternly. “He was out of bounds in treating you such a way. From what my brother said, you were attempting to take a walk on deck last night?”

She sighed softly. “Yes. I have not had much experience on a ship such as this, but I remember fondly staring up at the stars as my father spoke about the stories behind them.” She looked wistfully at a spot above the captain’s head. “I thought I might find some comfort in seeing them again.”

Liam nodded, flipping open his book. “Your highness,” he said a bit raggedly. “I don’t know what your security detail consisted of at your palace home, but on this ship our resources are limited. I cannot guarantee your safety if you continually traverse about the ship as though my men are all honorable in their intentions. Perhaps we could arrange one of the guards or officers that you are comfortable with to accompany you when you wish to spend time outside?”

“I don’t think that is necessary,” Emma answered. “I am capable of taking care of myself.” She huffed as she turned around toward the door, her long skirts rustling against the tight accommodations.

“My brother assures me that you are,” he responded just as softly. “However, please permit me to be concerned over transporting a member of the royal family. I cannot just allow you to roam at will with men leering at you, your highness.”

She considered this for a moment. In truth she’d been sheltered at home with guards and a governess who cared for her and her safety. Plus she’d had her parents. At 10 years old a neighboring kingdom sought to kidnap her and hold her for ransom, hoping to bolster their treasury. It had not been a guard, the army, or even her father who had rescued her when the man dressed with a mask ripped her from her horse and attempted to drag her into the darkness of the forest. Instead, it was her mother, an expert archer, who downed the man and saved her daughter from a horrific fate.

“Captain Jones, I doubt you could afford the loss of a crew member simply to assure that men don’t look upon me in the wrong way,” Emma said. “And I don’t think that I could trust one if what you say about their base nature is true.”

Liam was not a man who showed his frustration easily. It was usually only his brother who saw it, as that display of emotions could be considered a weakness. Captains in the royal navy could not afford that weakness when there were daily threats. The palm of his hand ran down his face. “Not all of my men are without restraint, your highness,” he said firmly. “And I would not place you in the protection of one who you did not feel comfortable with either. So I ask you to think about the men you have met on this ship thus far and tell me who should I reassign to you?”

Emma’s hands clenched at her sides in a show of disrespect to the captain. She was the only child of a couple who doted on her and rarely required anything of her that wasn’t of her own design. She was not spoiled, but she was consulted from an early age about things. She could remember sitting upon her father’s knee as he planned battles with his advisors and joining her mother as she called upon allies to ensure loyalty to the crown. She also knew when she was beat. “I have not met many of our crew, Captain Jones,” she said. “Only your brother and the man from the passage way have spoken to me more than two words, besides yourself of course.”

With no more than a moment’s hesitation, he groaned. “Very well, your highness,” he said resolutely. “My brother shall be assigned to your security for the remainder of our voyage. I can assure you that you may trust him.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Killian was consulting with a gunner when one of the men approached him and said that the captain was requesting his presence. With an apologetic sigh to the other men, he straightened his jacket and walked confidently to where his brother stood at the bow of the ship. “You requested me, brother?” he asked, seeing that look in Liam’s eye that often signaled some new challenge or difficulty that he was contemplating.

“Aye, I have decided that Everson will remain incarcerated below until we reach the next port. At that time I will turn him over the master at arms and remove him from service.” Liam braced his hands on the smooth wood of the ship’s railing and cut his glance to the off spray as they cut through the water.

“You addressed the princess’s concerns then?” Killian asked, a bit confused why his brother would seek him out to tell him this news. The ship was small and the crew talked freely amongst themselves. He had already heard of this plan from overhearing conversations.

“About the princess,” Liam responded tersely. “It is concerning to me that she felt no trepidation in her decision to leave her cabin last night to traverse about the ship unchaperoned.”

Behind them the men were laughing about someone’s blunder. A simple glance from Liam and the men settled their raucous conversation into a few shared looks of amusement. Killian did not even look in their direction, his eyes studying the way his brother’s hands were gripping the wood nervously. “It is a small space and the men are not used to having any woman about for a length of time.”

“I told her that,” Liam explained. “I informed her that I am unable to guarantee her safety amongst the men of this ship should she be roaming freely. While most of these men are men of honor, we are certain to have some degenerates in our midst who would give no hesitation to sullying a princess, especially a beautiful one.” He turned toward his brother with his hands clasped now behind his back.

“It is a stern but obliging assessment of the situation, brother.” He mimicked Liam’s stance and joining him as they crossed the narrow path from port to starboard. “You plan to relegate her to the captain’s quarters then? I suppose her food could be delivered and anything else she compels.”

“You have met her, brother,” Liam said with a small grin forming. “She’s quite a determined lass, even as far as royals go. I don’t think she would stay put for more than hour before she was attempting escape.” He nodded at two of the passing men. “I have determined that it would serve us best to avoid such melees and assign her a chaperone, a guard if you will.”

Killian gestured in agreement. “I suppose one of the men could be trusted,” he supplied thoughtfully, running through a short list of names of the men he knew to be among the best.

“She has some qualms about this for to situation,” Liam explained further, turning again to start the short journey back across the width of the deck. “And you, brother, are the only man on this ship besides myself whom the princess has become somewhat acquainted.”

“You aren’t suggesting…”

“Aye,” Liam said with an affirmative nod. “You will be the lady’s companion during this journey. You are to see to her needs during this time and to accompany her when she wishes to leave the safety of that cabin. I know that it is not assignment usually given to a lieutenant, but I believe you clever enough to know that it is one that requires great trust and loyalty.”

“Brother, I was not…”

“I realize that I had promised you a better position with greater responsibilities,” Liam continued, ignoring his brother’s sputtering protest. “The circumstances have not allowed for it. We can both agree that despite the lesser nature of chaperone duty, your service is likely to be greatly appreciated by the crown. You will be keeping Prince David’s only daughter safe and sound. That is the entire point of this journey.”

“Aye, captain,” Killian answered solemnly. “I shall do my best to protect her.”

Liam smiled. “Good luck with that, brother,” he said, removing his hat to place it under his arm. “She’s going to give you a hard time. I don’t think her highness is accustomed to this yet.”

***AAA***

Emma ran the needle through the white muslin and counted her stitches as her governess had taught her all those years ago. Of all the things for her mother to have requested packed for her, needlework was hardly one that she looked forward to performing on the ship. It was a quiet hobby that was a mark of good breeding and manners, but its mundane repetitiveness was not amongst her favorites.

“Your highness,” Liam said from the open doorway, looking in on her bored expression. He’d told her that the door should remain closed at all times, as to not invite the lewd glances of passing crew members or encourage such behavior. She had of course ignored that request.

“Captain,” she muttered in response, not bothering with the formalities with addressing him.

“I have fetched the lieutenant for you,” he said, gesturing to his brother’s stoic form. “It is nearly time for the midday meal and I thought that you might enjoy it with the two of us rather than alone.”

She raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the way that her chaperone did not even meet her eyes as he stood companionably by his brother. “I suppose,” she said without full commitment. “Will I be allowed out of my cell?”

Liam nodded patiently at her. “You are upset, your highness,” he stated the obvious. “I hope that you will grow to understand that…”

She dropped the needlework on the table with a plop, her eyes flashing dangerously. “I would prefer that you didn’t patronize me, Captain Jones. I am well aware that on your ship you are the high command, but I don’t have to agree with your assessments or decisions. I am not one of the men on this ship who have signed up and received a commission to follow your orders.”

“No, you’re not, your highness,” Liam said a bit more harshly. “Those men serve me in the protection of your land, your family, and your own neck. You may dine with us or you may dine here alone in your room because those are the two options that are suitable. Which shall it be?”

She could have been haughty about it, she supposed. It would have been easy to have sneered at him that she was used to dining with dukes, duchesses, kings, and queens, but she didn’t. She did not want either of them to feel that she considered them lesser, as barely considered herself their equals.

“I shall dine alone, thank you,” she said, leaving the brothers gaping.

***AAA***

Killian felt like a maid as he removed the plate from in front of her and carried it from the room, promising to be back momentarily to escort her on a short walk to help settle her stomach. Despite his brother’s benevolent proposal of eating with the princess, she had refused and sullenly said that she would prefer to eat alone to their company.

“I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly. Her words startled him.

He wanted to ask her for what offense she was apologizing or if she was honestly offering an apology when most royals he had met never would do so. Instead he froze and waited for her to continue, praying that his face showed none of the confusion that was bubbling inside him.

“You didn’t ask for this assignment,” she said. “I can imagine a lieutenant has loftier goals than babysitting a spoiled princess on board a ship.”

He ducked his head a bit, regarding her plate as though his lines in a play were written upon it. “Your highness,” he said. “I don’t imagine there is any duty more important than ensuring the safety of your kingdom by scurrying you away to safety. If I must carry your dishes and extend your parasol, then that is part of the job.”

When he looked up to see if she understood, her eyes were less fiery than they had been before. “You are saying that a lieutenant would rather act as my lady’s maid than command the men of this ship?”

“My brother is the commander,” he reminded her. “And it is a pleasure to accept such a job where my life is not in danger. However, I must mind that yours might just be.” He wanted to wink at her, signify that his words were in jest and not a result of her current situation.

“Yes,” she said, lowering herself back to the chair. “That’s what this is all about – removing me from the threat of the curse and war?”

He smiled warmly. “Perhaps those are threats,” he conceded. “However, I think the bigger one is if you expect me to be your lady’s maid that I am not proficient at the skills needed for the job.”

She laughed freely, a sound that he had not heard since she first stepped aboard the ship. And though he was not all that familiar with her history of life, he was certain that she used to laugh like that all the time. The image of a young blonde child with a beautiful but torn dress and messy braids trailing down her back, crossed his mind as the musical sound of her faded. “I won’t ask you to tighten my corset or arrange my hair,” she said. “You have my word.”

“I shall be grateful for that, your highness,” he said. “You will be too, I imagine.”

She watched him disappear into the corridor, avoiding the ladder that leads directly to the deck. Her hands were shaking, though she was sure that their banter was merely playful and a way to pass the time rather than something more. Even at the palace, she had no suitors who were allowed in her bed chambers. However, the close proximity of life on a ship meant that some modesty had to be relegated to old fashioned or irrelevant.

While she had enjoyed talking with him, she could not help but feel isolated in her current condition. She was longing for someone to call her Emma instead of by some silly title. She wanted to feel something other than appreciation or annoyance. She just wanted to feel normal.

As promised, he returned to escort her onto the deck and for the first time in a long time she saw the stars that she had been seeking out to give her some comfort of home. Looking toward him before returning her gaze upward, she observed his nervousness.

“And do you use them to navigate, lieutenant?” she asked, ending the silence that had become a thumping echo in her head. “I hear that some sailors do that.”

“Aye,” he said. “It is a skill, your highness. There will not always be maps and charts that might guide us so we must use what we have to safely navigate the waters.”

She looked at the glowing flecks in the dark sky and sighed. “My father told me stories about the stars and how they appeared to other people,” she said to him. “I should think that using them to navigate would take a bit of their magic away.”

***AAA***

She did not request that much of him, if he was being honest. Endlessly grateful and certainly polite, she did not sway from her stance that she blamed his brother for the situation of him being her chaperone. As the days went by, she performed her own tasks of laundering her clothes and bathing without asking for anything more than water for the jobs. She sat quietly in the cabin and always asked after his health each time he entered. Daily they walked about the deck of the ship and sometimes the lower holds to see the workings that seemed to fascinate her.

If the men on deck of the Jewel of the Realm were eyeing her, they did it so covertly that she and her chaperone did not notice. Killian stayed a respectable distance back from her as she stepped around the rope and equipment that littered the deck’s surface. He pointed out a few of the more obtrusive objects to prevent her from slipping and falling, but otherwise he remained silent until she would ask him a question.

She was a curious sort, he determined as she squinted up into the sun. There were questions about the sails and the amount of time it took to prepare them. She asked after the crew and how many men there were and what sorts of jobs they were assigned. Even the supplies and provisions were not lost on her curiosity, as she queried after the numbers and ability to obtain more.

“Are you planning to commandeer the ship, your highness?” he asked when she took a momentary break from her interview of him. “I believe you have just learned more about the running of this ship than Liam did at his first year at the academy.”

Her laughter again rang out. “I have no intentions of stealing this ship from your brother, Lieutenant Jones,” she said. “I was just making conversation with you, as you seem unwilling to talk to me unless I instigate it.”

“I see,” he said slowly. “I thought you might not care to have a conversation with me, but I suppose you might feel a bit tired of being the only one of your station here on this ship. I’m not sure I’m the proper substitute, but I shall try, your highness.”

She looked at him sadly, her laughter now muted by his words. “That’s all you think of me, isn’t it? I’m just a woman who wears a tiara and has the weight of a kingdom on her.” Squinting back at the sun, she sighed. “I think I should like to return to my quarters. I suddenly feel very tired.”

“As you wish, your highness,” he said.

***AAA***

Partway to their destination Liam announced to the crew that they would be docking overnight at a port city in a small kingdom to replenish their supplies. The crew did their best to look focused and resolute in their efforts that day, but the captain was well aware that they were celebrating behind his back. The attention that his crew drew in such towns was flattering to say the least. Women lined the windows of the buildings to stare out upon the uniform clad men and a simple of story of a battle at sea usually bought his men a drink or two at the local tavern.

“Will I be allowed off the ship?” Emma asked Killian that morning when he arrived with her breakfast. “Or do you all plan on keeping me hidden.”

“That is…”

“Up to your brother, I know,” she said, almost pouting with disappointment at the idea of her feet not being allowed on solid ground. “I suppose I’ll stay here and read a book.” She ran a hand along the leather bound volumes on the shelf. “Nothing else to do.”

He smiled at her, which she did not seem to notice as she continued her state. “I was going to say that is something you have to look forward to today, your highness,” he said, a definite smirk on his face as he watched her expression change from angry pouting to elation. “Is there anything in particular that you would like to see in town?”

“You mean, you are to be my chaperone even on dry land?” she asked. “I suppose I should have expected that.”

“My brother has no other orders for me,” Killian explained, lifting the linen from the tray. “We were not able to procure all the supplies we needed in Mist Haven, as your father had declared it more important you be removed from the land at once. So we made haste to this port. We should be there in a few hours at most.”

Emma nodded, her face turning down at the mention of her father. In the time aboard the Jewel of the Realm she had not allowed herself to properly cry for her parents, whose fate was unknown to her at this point. “Do you think that someone in the town will know what has become of my parents?” she asked Killian, losing the edge to her voice that seemed to be natural when talking either of the brothers. “I think I would like to know…”

“We shall ask, your highness,” he said, nudging the tray toward her chair. “Now come and eat before you are complaining that the food is no longer warm. I don’t fancy another trip to the galley for you this morning.”

She smiled at his attempt at humor. “Very good, lieutenant,” she mockingly praised. “Such bravery to stand up to a princess.”

She ate quickly, telling Killian that she wanted to come back up on deck to see their arrival in the town herself. Despite his initial protest that perhaps she should spend the time resting, he escorted her and pointed out some of the jobs that the men were doing in preparation. When the town’s outline became visible, he led her toward the bow of the ship so that she might see it more clearly.

“You plan to march through the streets in your uniform?” she asked as he removed his hat to remove what appeared to her an invisible piece of dust. “Let all the women swoon for you?”

He chuckled and replaced the broad black accessory. “I believe that my first responsibility is finding lodging for you, your highness,” he declared. “A bed that is not in a moving ship should sound comforting to you.”

She looked over her shoulder at him, something she rarely did as she did not make eye contact on many occasions. “Lieutenant, what of you? Where shall you stay while I am in this comfortable bed? Will you retreat back to the ship? Or will you be looking in the tavern for a companion?” His face flushed at her improper implication.

“I am not much for taverns, your highness, especially when I have other responsibilities,” he said. “And I shall find lodging for myself as well. I can’t be too far from you if I am to remain at your beck and call.”

***AAA***

The road in front of the buildings in the town was a dusty and uneven mess, Emma determined as the hem of her dress became tinged with the dirt. As promised, Killian had not only secured her lodging, but settled himself into a smaller room next door. With a few hours of daylight left, she had requested that they tour the town before dinner with his brother a little later.

“Are most port towns like this?” she asked him as they made their way past the last of the small shops and toward a field where the road ended. “I thought there would be more life to it than this.”

“It’s a poor fishing village, your highness,” he explained, placing his hand beneath her elbow when she lost her balance on the rough terrain. “They are not the sort of people to encourage frivolous activities.”

She frowned. “You think I’m sheltered, don’t you?” she asked, stopping short and feeling his stumbling step beside her. “I’ve been to my share of impoverished places before and this isn’t quite the same level. These people have vocations and money to secure their way of life. Nobody is starving or dying from ,,

“Apologies, your highness,” was his reply. He expected her to continue walking, move forward along the road as they made conversation that seemed for lack of a better term, stilted.

After hesitating, she continued forward, but rather than taking the road that ran perpendicular, she stood at the fence around the pasture and looked out on the rolling green fields. “You can argue with me, you know?” she said, breaking the silence. “You can tell me what you really think.”

He looked ahead as well, viewing a man in the distance with his horse. “I don’t think that would be appropriate,” he managed to say, turning so that he practically sat on the sagging log of the fence.

She continued to watch out over the field, her hands delicately clasped in front of her. “I wish you would,” she said. “I detest all this treating me like I’m a delicate doll that is going break if someone so much as looks at me the wrong way.” She expelled a long breath of air. “Do you realize that it has been days?”

“Since?”

“Since anyone used my name,” she answered. “My name isn’t your highness. It is Emma, but nobody, including you have the bravado to call me that. I realize propriety states that I’m not to be addresses so familiarly.”

“You’re right,” he said, choking back her title rather than stating it. “It isn’t something I would be allowed to call you.” He blinked in her direction.

“Perhaps when we are alone?” she asked, suddenly sounding shy and unsure. “Our secret?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I think that I could do that, Emma,” he said, trying out the name. If he had felt unsure about its use, the smile she gifted him with was enough to convince him it might be worth a lecture from his brother.

“Thank you, Killian.”


	4. Chapter 4

Waiting for Liam to join them, Killian informed Emma that no news from Mist Haven had reached the tiny village, as he spent their time apart questioning everyone from the shopkeepers and fishermen to the children in the streets. He could feel the pain radiate off of her at the lack of knowledge, but she remains with a brave face and does not shed a single tear in his sight.

Emma had not seemed put off by food from the tavern, teasingly saying that it was hotter than any meal she’d had on the ship. Liam offered to find a home where the owner’s wife would cook for them, but she assured the captain and lieutenant that the food the crew had been drooling over since news of their location had spread was more than good enough for her.

“You have an appetite, your highness,” Liam said, hoping that she would not be insulted by the observation.

“I always snuck into the kitchens as a child because I wanted to sample the cooks’ work,” she answered. She did not offer him the same explanation that she had Killian when he asked the same question during one of their walks. She did not explain how it was the comfort of the food and the fact that it broke up the day that keeps her coming back to it. She does not mention that her mother’s tour of an impoverished village had so touched Emma that she felt selfish for wasting a single drop.

Killian did not embellish her reasoning either, simply dipping his spoon into the brown colored soup and quietly slurping up the contents. He tried to keep his eyes focused on the meal and not the princess’s animated face or the fact that just the night before he’d had a dream where he was permitted to hold her and caress the skin he knows must be silky and smooth. Such a dream is not even something his brother would condone.

“I have not had the privilege of sailing with your father before, your highness” Liam continued to make conversation though he felt that she was only providing the barest of details. “Does he travel much?”

Emma smiled and dipped a bit of the bread into the soup. “I suppose his travels are more frequently by horse than by ship,” she said. “He’s an accomplished equestrian. My mother is the same.”

“And you, Emma…your highness,” Killian asked, coughing in the hopes that his brother won’t note his slip. “What of your riding abilities?”

“My father insisted I learn at an early age how to ride, both astride and side saddle,” Emma said with a smile at the memory of her father racing her and letting her win as a child. “I think it was among the many skills that he and my mother wished for me to learn.”

“Of course,” Liam said, eyeing his brother’s expression carefully. “An accomplished woman, especially a princess must have many skills and talents, your highness.”

Emma pinches off another bit of the bread. “Killian tells me that you are the youngest captain in the royal navy,” Emma said, turning the attention back. “That in itself must require a great many skills and talents. Was this something you aspired to early?” She had learned from Killian that the way to Liam’s good graces was flattery. However, she was not to be overt in her attentions, instead allowing him to talk of himself.

Liam relaxed a bit as he explained how he and Killian grew up in a small fishing village themselves. When Liam was three and his baby brother was born, the toddler had threatened to run away on one of the ships, as he was certain even then that was his way to fortune.

“Perhaps as a privateer,” Emma laughed. “However, as a naval captain I’m afraid the crown doesn’t pay enough to be considered a fortune.”

The tip from Killian had worked, as the captain and his lieutenant entertained her through the rest of their dinner with banter and stories of growing up and living in such close quarters. Emma only felt momentary sadness over their brotherly affections, as she had never experienced that herself. She was an only child, as was her mother. Her father had a brother, but the man had died before the two had even met. So to see the two men finish each other’s sentences and argue over whether it was more appropriate to refer to Killian as the little brother or the younger brother was a rare glimpse into that world.

***AAA***

Liam had searched for Killian after dinner, wanting to discuss the best way to transport the supplies back to the ship. However, he was no place to be seen. Grimacing at the thought that his brother was in fact in some private locale with the princess, he told the innkeeper that he would be back in the morning to retrieve the two residents.

His feet drug along the uneven earth, roots and rocks throwing him off balance as he grew closer to the ship. His eyes adjusted to the dark and he could certainly hear the boisterous noise of the tavern. He was sure he’d even seen the quartermaster being led by one of the more endowed wenches up a rickety staircase to a room. Almost wishing that his brother was that sort of man, he shook off the thoughts that Killian was being anything more than a perfect gentleman to the princess.

“He’s a sodding idiot if he isn’t,” Liam said to himself as his feet hit the weathered wood of the dock. His brother was younger by three years, a time that seemed like nothing some days and decades others. A younger brother, he’d followed Liam everywhere and wanted to do everything his older brother could do.

When he wasn’t following his older brother, he was trying to prove himself worthy of the naval commission that had cost Liam every bit of respect he’d earned in the academy. Killian had worked hard for each rank and been the epitome of class and grace in any situation. While others turned off their military personas for a tankard, Killian did not. He lived the life and performed as though he was always up for inspection. To Liam’s knowledge, the man had not even bedded a wench during their layovers at different ports of call.

But Liam was not blind either. The princess was a beautiful woman, who was both feisty and intelligent. That was a dangerous combination. And if there was anyone who might tempt his brother, it could be the blonde haired royal who had to know what sort of an effect she was having on a young lieutenant when she brushed up against him or smiled coquettishly across the table. Then there was the dinner tonight. She had been demure and sweetly appreciative of the innkeeper’s humble offerings of meat and potatoes. He had not missed that on two occasions she had called his brother Killian or that his brother blushed rosily upon hearing the name.

Liam had intended to talk to his brother upon the end of the meal, expecting that the princess would take her leave to her room as would be proper. Instead, she had declared that she was in need of walking and smiled to his eager brother for agreement. Killian had practically knocked over his chair in order to open the door for her and followed her out into the dark street. Now they were God only knew where, Liam thought.

“Captain,” a voice called from a nearby ship at the dock. “Do you have a moment?”

Liam boarded the small ship and wrinkled his nose at the strong smell aboard it. “Just a moment,” he offered, standing back as the pale man in an unfamiliar uniform stood at attention before him.

“You made a mistake, Captain Jones,” the man said ominously. His eyes looked weak, not only the darkness that was a clue to his hard life. The pallor of his skin was so striking that Liam could not stop himself from staring at the ruddiness that was only showing in small blotches.

“By boarding your ship?” Liam asked, unsure about these circumstances. “It appears that you have had some misfortune, mate.” As any sailor, Liam was superstitious and the stench of sickness aboard the other vessel was certainly a sign of bad luck. Ships seemed to carry such things, disease and death without bothering to learn of its victims.

“By coming to village,” the man answers. His words are short, almost as though someone is charging him for each one.

“I’d ask you to speak plainly,” Liam challenges him. “I have neither time nor patience for vagueness.” The man pointed to sit on the steps from one level to the next, but Liam thought better of it given the circumstances.

“You have not been here in years,” the man said. “This port sees few officers in it.”

“A few years ago I picked up supplies here. I remembered to be a small place, impoverished, but fair in dealings. So when my crew was in need of supplies I found this the most logical of locations.” Liam ran a hand in a kneading motion on the back of his neck. “Is that so unusual.”

“When you were here before, do you remember anything after you left?”

Liam drew his hand away from its ministrations. “I seem to recall that we ran through quite a storm and lost our course for a bit, but all was fine eventually.” He shrugged at the memory that is hazy from his early days in the navy as a midshipman. It seemed unimportant to him in light of the journeys and adventures he’d had since then.

“It is known that any ship that makes the mistake of docking here takes away with it more than supplies,” the man said. “Storms, death, illness, mutiny, all seem to follow those who take advantage.”

***AAA***

Emma laughed at the longing way he looked to the ships docked at the edge of the village, his eyes seeming to caress each of them in turn. When he turned to see what had amused her so much, he found himself smiling along with her. “You seem to find me entertaining,” he said. “I’m not sure that is a good thing.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” she asked, pulling the wrap tighter around herself as the stiff breeze off the water grew more insistent. “I should think you’d rather I be amused by you than loathe you. Or perhaps not care at all how I regard you.”

“I am just not sure that it is flattering that the princess should view me like the court jester,” he responded. “I had hoped for a better reputation.”

She tempered her laughter into a quiet smile, brushing back the loose hairs around her face with the back of her hand. “Don’t fish for compliments, Killian,” she said sternly. “I don’t give them very freely.”

“I wouldn’t dare, Emma.”

She sighed, appreciating for a moment the way that he said her name. It wasn’t anything that people would recognize as special, but the soft lilt to the word, almost as if he was still unsure. “Do you wish to spend the rest of your life at sea?” she asked, hoping that he would not suggest returning to the inn any time soon. “Or do you hope to have a family someday?”

“There are men aboard who have both,” he said, reaching down and removing a stone from his boot. “It is not an easy life, but they find a way to have it.”

She tried to imagine it, a woman waiting for months to see her husband return. The knowledge that he was putting himself in danger daily that must play at the woman’s mind. It seemed a lonely existence to her, one that would require inordinate trust on both parts and an unfathomable amount of faith. She knew that she was soon to be married herself, but she was sure that she had never felt such a way that she could imagine that life.

Swallowing, she turned from the water and looked back on the village with candles burning in the windows and a soft glow about the buildings. “Did you grow up in a village or were your people from someplace else?”

“You are very curious, Emma,” Killian said as he turned to join her, taking the first steps back toward the road to the inn. “I have to wonder if you are this way with all.”

“I have scarcely asked your brother any questions,” she reminded him as she walked along the now familiar path. “Is it so hard to believe that I would find you interesting and want to know more?”

Killian chuckled. “Someday, I shall turn the tables on you and ask you the questions.”

Their pace was leisurely and it was late before they returned to the inn. Killian walked her to her door and offered to sit outside it if she felt the least bit anxious to remain there alone all night. She had refused the offer, stating that she was capable of caring for herself and that his service was not required at that point. However, she told him, she did hope to see him for breakfast.

Entering his room, Killian could sense his brother’s presence even before he noted the glowing candle on the table. “Liam,” he said, removing his jacket as the door closed. “You were to sleep on the ship, were you not?”

His older brother stood, pushing back the wooden chair with an unsteady hand. “I would ask where you have been, but I don’t that as your captain I wish to know,” he said, his mouth set in a firm line. “I don’t need to remind you that she’s far above your station and mine. She’s betrothed to a prince, Killian. There’s no room in her life for an ardent lieutenant to pursue her clumsily or any other way.”

Killian’s brows dropped as he listened to his brother’s assessment. “I have not made any such error, brother. The princess’s safety was placed in my list of responsibilities. To assume that I have somehow grown to have feelings for her because of that is preposterous.” He attempted to look angry and offended by his brother, but the older Jones was not buying it.

“She calls you Killian,” Liam said as if introducing evidence into a trial. “And did I not hear you refer to her as Emma?”

He’d known that was a mistake, even when she had requested the familiarity. “At her request.”

“If a member of the royal family of this or any other kingdom was to hear of this breach in protocol,” Liam shook his head. “They would not hesitate to assume that it went beyond just given names, Killian. You would lose your rank and perhaps your position. And then what? Work in the fields? Fish? What would become of you?”

“Brother, there is nothing…”

“She has her family’s money and position to mask her participation in any dalliance, but you have no such luxuries. We have no family fortune or even a name to fall back on, Killian. I tell you this as your captain, but also your brother. Princess Emma is off limits to you. Don’t put the idea in men’s heads that you would even consider it, as the perception can be more dangerous than the truth.”

Killian did not open his mouth in response, though a large portion of him wanted to deny that he had any improper thoughts toward the blonde woman in the room next door. As much as he hated his duties and how they appeared to infringe upon her life, he was sure that he would hate missing her just as much.

“I’ll determine a suitable replacement for you,” Liam stated sternly. “And I’ll see about bringing aboard a lady’s maid for her company.”

***AAA***

Emma expected Killian the next morning, as he had told her the night before that he would accompany her for breakfast downstairs at the inn. She’d actually felt herself excited at the prospect of sharing a meal with him when she wouldn’t have to worry about things tumbling off the table. While she still classified herself as bored and listless most days, she did admit that he was good company. It had become one of her new hobbies to watch how fast she could make him blush and how soon he was laughing with her over some old story.

Smoothing the dark green of her dress over her hips, she peered into the looking glass with a sad smile. Once again she found herself in a situation where she cared for someone whose time with her was limited. In a short time they would be arriving in her new home, a carriage waiting to take her to her fiancé. She’d probably never see Killian or Liam again.

The knock at the door broke her from her thoughts and she pulled open on the crude rope handle with a gentle tug. “Captain,” she said, a bit shocked to see Liam standing there without Killian by his side. “What a surprise to see you this morning.”

“Your highness,” he said, dipping both shoulders and head with his hat securely under his arm. “I am here to escort you to breakfast. Are you prepared or should I return?”

She shook a bit of the confusion from herself and followed him to the uneven staircase at the end of the hallway. “I wasn’t expecting you, Captain Jones,” she said, hoping that he would offer information on Killian rather than insisting that she ask for it. “So please forgive my surprise.”

“The fault is mine, your highness,” he responded, leading her to a table close to the burning embers in the fireplace. “My brother is seeing to the placement of our supplies. I did not want you to be denied your breakfast because of his redirected responsibilities.”

She placed the napkin in her lap, ignoring the burning questions about why Killian’s services were required when the crew was so plentiful. “Your brother is quite the responsible and loyal officer,” she said, narrowing her eyes a bit. “I should think you are very proud of him.”

“Indeed, your highness,” Liam answered, motioning for their plates to be brought to them. “He throws himself into whatever job I give him aboard ship. That’s predominately why he has ascended the ranks so quickly himself.”

She nods, remembering the previous night’s conversation. “That’s important to him, I’m sure.”

“Aye,” Liam said, swallowing his first bite. “What with a family to support soon, he’s going to have to work doubly as hard to do that.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

Liam kept his promise that he would find a replacement for Killian's duties with the princess, though the task of finding her a maid on such notice proved fruitless. "I don't need assistance," she insisted when the captain escorted her back to the ship with nary a sight of the lieutenant. "This is a waste of time and resources, Captain Jones."

The man who replaced him is a scrawny excuse for a future officer who appears to Emma to be scared of his own shadow and sweat profusely. She avoided him as much as possible, not bothering to allow him to eat in her room as she had with Killian. It's probably better that way, she thought to herself during the night as she listened to the creaking boards of the ship and the water lapping close at hand. She won't have to think of how to say goodbye, she told herself, as the words never come easily.

She did not despise her new chaperone, but he is a bit irritating. Still, she let him walk with her on deck, though she required him to stay five steps behind so that she could breathe and think. Her eyes are continually at the water or the horizon, searching and longing. But her ears are keen for the sound of his voice.

"If you require nothing else, your highness," the new chaperone, someone named Malone said, "I'll take my leave."

She just nodded her agreement and watched him walk from the room. There was no need to ask him to call her by her name, as it would not be the same. No need for it, really, as he would surely refuse. Instead, she spent her time imagining her life with her new husband to be, the life of court, balls, and a wedding ceremony that she had yet to even plan. It was easy to forget sometimes, she said to herself, that in a short time she was going from her parents' daughter to someone's wife.

Other women in her situation might be excited about the possibility, thankful for the end of endless speculation and rumors of courting and betrothal announcements. She'd been subject to that since her tutoring had ended, various suitors having presented themselves to her parents before even meeting her, which seemed odd. Why would the opinion of her parents matter more than her own in such matters?

Emma's mind wandered back to the conversation with Liam, his words echoing in her ears about Killian's plans for a family. She'd been surprised by them, maybe even a little hurt if she was being honest with herself. However, something did not sit right in her mind as she heard those words. For she also saw and heard Killian's explanation that some men found a way to work at sea and have wives and families. He'd made no mention of that being a personal goal for himself, rather he referred to those men as they instead of we.

She hated to think so, but perhaps Liam was lying to her. She'd always been good at detecting such things, her father calling her a mind reader when she noted the dishonesty of one of the palace staff members. But then again, she thought with a sad realization, Killian had not said he wished to spend the rest of his life at sea either.

He could not be protecting her from any type of hero worship she might be afflicted with, as he knew of her own arranged marriage and pending nuptials. It was simply unnecessary, she thought. She had no feelings for the young lieutenant other than admiration for all he had done for her and the fact that he treated her as something other than political pawn or royal.

She crossed the room, knowing it took only five or six steps to do so. Her right hand ran over the leather volumes of books that Liam had obviously collected over his travels. She had read many of them before, as her parents had maintained a quite an impressive library at their palace. Her hand came to rest on the leather portfolios that were obviously journals. For a moment, she felt guilty that she would even consider reading them.

"Don't be a ninny," she whispered to herself, lifting one from its place and holding the thick volume in her hands. "It's a naval captain's journal. It probably contains battle plans and logs of rations and equipment more than the secret and private thoughts of Liam Jones. He isn't a girl writing of his daydreams and hopes."

***AAA***

Killian steady hands measured the distance on the map, marking it accordingly and gathering the praise of his brother as it is inspected. He was not going for that, as praise from his brother seemed very minor for an even more minor task. It was not as though being relieved of his duties in chaperoning Princess Emma was a blessing or a triumph.

"Brother, you look as though you could climb the walls," Liam said, entering his sight. "It does nothing to quell my suspicion that you…"

"I have never been one to enjoy the mundane, Captain Jones," Killian answered, using the formal name of his brother as some sort of shield.

Liam nodded solemnly and eradicated himself from the heavy uniform jacket. "We have been making good time, brother," he said. "The winds have been favorable and the men invigorated after our brief port visit."

"Aye, a change of scenery can do that to you," Killian answered, his eyes scanning the coordinates of the pages he'd been assigned earlier. "Though I doubt your came here to discuss with me either the weather or the state of the crew."

"Brother," Liam said with a little gentler tone. "I have no doubt that you harbor some anger at me. You have never hidden it when you feel I have made an error."

Killian leaned back, the lantern above his head swinging with the motion of the ship and bringing the shadows around them to life. "Liam, I don't doubt your abilities, your loyalty to the crown, or your judgment," he said. "I only doubt the preposterous nature of this journey. Prince David has asked us to save his daughter by taking her away from everything she knows and loves because of fear. I did not know we were serving a man ruling by cowardice."

A flash of anger and regret came over Liam's features. "It is not our right to doubt the man who should someday be king," he said, a phrase he had used many times both to himself and his brother. "As you became quite fond of and acquainted with the princess, I'm sure she told you things…"

"She never spoke ill of her father," Killian interrupted. "She only…"

Liam nodded knowingly, his eyes dying to tell Killian that was part of the problem. He clearly had known too much and heard too much from the royal. "I think I shall take my meal in private tonight," he said. "Care to join me?"

Killian vowed to himself that he would not speak of their journey or any of the royal family. Their conversation was as light as it could be and fringed with memories of earlier life. It was as if there were no doubts upon him or his loyalty. While his brother speaks to him with love evident, Killian could not help but wonder if the princess was eating her meal alone and if she missed their opportunities for shared conversations.

***AAA***

He saw her next about two days later on an early morning walk, his replacement trailing behind and trying to look both regal and authoritative at the same time. While Malone had never been anything but a good and loyal crew member, Killian couldn't help but hope the man tripped and landed in the cold waters of the sea. He darts his eyes from Malone and keeps a glance toward Emma.

She looked younger than her 24 years with her hair not fully ensconced in a tight chignon or bun, but instead clipped up at her crown with golden curls falling down her back to her waist. He was again assuaged with a thought of a younger version of her, sneaking away from her governess and parents to climb trees and wade in a brook not far from the castle grounds. The same wind that blows her voice away from his ears as she says good morning to another man caresses her so lightly that he wonders if the thin material of the mauve dress she is wearing is enough to protect her.

He bent his head over the morning register and frowned deeply at the results. Almost a quarter of the crew was ill, according to the handwritten records. The number had risen sharply from the night before when it had become obvious that some sort of ailment had taken ahold in one of the crew quarters. Now it appeared to have spread.

Dropping his hands to his side and still clutching the paper register, he made his way toward the stern of the ship to seek out his brother. Only the hacking cough of Malone gave him pause as he stepped lightly around the equipment still out from that morning. "Malone," he said, removing his bicorne as he approached. He could already feel Emma looking at him, but his business was with her chaperone. "A word, if you please."

The insipid man looked toward the princess and back at Killian with a bit of confusion. "Yes, lieutenant," he said.

They were several steps away from Emma before Killian spoke again, hoping that his voice would not carry to her ears that had already heard enough of danger and threats to her life. "You were at the tavern, were you not?" the lieutenant said with a low tone. "Back at the village?"

Malone's skin coloring was not just pale, Killian judged, but a sickly green as well. The man was swaying more than the ship's motion could have caused and there was doubt in his mind that he would remain standing much longer. "Aye," Malone said. "I drank very little, but I was there."

Killian sighed. "Get yourself to your bunk and get some rest," he said. "I shall bring the princess back to her quarters."

The man grew paler from the idea of betraying the captain by besmirching his responsibility. He almost said so when the overwhelming urge to vomit overcame his senses and he dashed for the railing. Killian wrinkled his nose in disgust and approached Emma carefully.

"He seems a lightweight," she said before Killian even addressed her. She sighed, turning to look at him through eyes that did not seem to light up in his presence. "I haven't seen you, Killian."

"My brother had other plans for me," he said, avoiding her name and her title. "Malone appears to be sick and rather than risk your health, I would walk you back to the cabin."

"A great many of your crew has fallen ill," she said, holding up her skirt a bit to step from the raised platform down to the main deck. "It appears to be quite the issue."

"Aye," Killian said, falling in step beside her. "It might be best that we keep you away from them for the time being. I know that you hate to be confined, but it is for your safety."

"It always is, Killian," she said with a smirk. "You are not ill as of yet?"

"No, I have not taken ill with whatever this malady may be. I will have to consult with my brother, but perhaps I should be the one to tend to you again."

She paused, looking curiously at him. "Your brother seemed to find it important that you be allowed more significant responsibilities," she said, her lips turned down as he nodded. "Why would that be different now?"

"I can surely do both," he said. "If some illness is plaguing the crew, we will all have to take on additional duties until all are well."

He held the door open for her, asking if she required anything before he left to find his brother and alert him to the issues with Malone and the other crew members. She promised him to stay put until something could be organized and arranged.

Liam was well aware of the situation when Killian found him below. The man's brow was furrowed and his sleeves rolled to his elbows as he assigned and reassigned tasks with the help of another junior officer. Nodding to the other officer and his brother, Killian joined the two at the unstable table.

"Let's put Malone on boatswain duty," Liam said, upon the news that there were not enough men currently assigned to the sails and rigging of the ship. "He can do that in addition to his responsibilities to the princess." The older brother rubbed his temples.

"Captain," Killian said, as the two rarely referred to their familial relationship in front of the crew members. "Malone has taken ill too. I escorted Princess Emma to her quarters and instructed her to stay there until suitable arrangements can be made. A good percentage of the forward has fallen ill, as has the…"

"We're aware, lieutenant," Liam answered harshly. "Very well. Let's assign Issacs to boatswain duty." He closed the ledger and passed it to the officer across from him. "Hold another roll call after midday. I want to address the men and make sure that we are prepared for any such occurrence. We are going to need everyone's full cooperation."

Killian waited for his brother to acknowledge their presence together, the older man worry etched on his face. "Brother…"

Liam sighed deeply and folded his hands under his chin as he leaned forward on the table. "They are dropping quickly, brother," he said. "I am now without several key positions and from what you are telling me there is no one left that I trust to safeguard our passenger." Their eyes locked in a silent conversation of wills.

"Brother, I feel that I should…"

"You and I were at the inn," he said, a hopeless expression on his face. "Everyone who has taken ill was either at the tavern or on the ship during a large quantity of the time we were docked. In order to protect the princess, I will allow for you to attend to her. But brother, heed this, I cannot condone you to become familiar with her in any way."

Killian consented in agreement and offered to relieve one of the ship's other men for a few hours, but his brother refused. "Killian, I don't know what matter of malady this is or what we are coming up against, but we cannot expose her to any of this danger.

***AAA***

She was sitting in the comfortable arm chair when she welcomed the knock on her door. Rather than sitting like a princess with a back ramrod straight and not even touching the blue fabric of the back of the chair, she had slid down and twisted herself into the chair with her legs dangling over the side. A thick leather volume of one of Liam's journals was on her lap and her fingers held up one page to turn it momentarily.

"Killian," she said, a bit confused to see him standing there despite the fact that she had heard Malone had yet to recover. "I thought…"

"I have come with your breakfast," he said, again not using either her title or name. "It took a bit of time, so I apologize for the delay."

She swung her legs back over so that her feet rested on the strong floorboards. "No apology necessary, Killian," she said, tilting her head to the side. "It looks different."

"Aye," he said, removing the cloth he had placed over it to hold its heat as he made the walk from the galley to her room. "With the condition of the crew, I chose to prepare it myself. I'm afraid that my duties have never included being a cook, but I did my best for you." He had heated a bit of bread and even managed to find some marmalade that he hoped might please her. A small bowl of porridge was also there, but he did not know if she had ever actually eaten such food. It was simple and the food of peasants, not someone such as herself.

"How ill is the crew?" she asked worriedly. "I have followed instructions not to leave, but I can tell there are fewer men walking about."

He could see the concern on her face, as there was no hiding the fact that the crew is dropping fast. She was an observant and perceptive woman, which he told her as he recognized it. "You would make a wonderful sailor," he told her. "But you are correct. A form of illness I have never seen has overtaken this ship. More men are becoming ill by the hour."

She nodded at the news, pushing her food around absently. "I estimate that your brother feels I would be best left here without coming into the company of any of the sick," she said.

"He's only thinking of your well-being," Killian answered. "I can tell that will not make you happy, but neither would becoming ill."

She nodded again. "It is understandable," she said a bit grimly. "I can't expect you to entertain me. You have other responsibilities." She pushed the remains of her breakfast toward him. "Thank you, sir. I shall require nothing else."

***AAA***

Killian maintained both his duties to Emma and navigation, pitching in where he could. He had noted that Emma had been less demanding of his time than she had been previously, rarely doing more than asking after the crew and offering to serve as a nurse if needed. He had managed to hold her hand aloft during that exchange, telling her that she was quite the humanitarian and someone who her people in her new kingdom would grow to love and respect. It was the closest to a compliment he had been able to allow lately.

Maybe it was the stress of the journey with a limited crew or the fact that none of the men who had fallen ill had yet to recover, but Liam's face appeared to have aged over the experience. The man was only 30 years old, but he had the worry lines of a man 10 years his senior as he came upon his brother that afternoon. He had not lit any of the candles or lanterns yet, sitting in the darkened room with the palm of his hand running up and down over his face.

Killian had never seen his brother appear that way. It actually reminded him briefly of their father, an abominable man of ill-reputation and worse character. Though his actual memories of the man were mostly tainted with that last day they had seen him, Killian held very little regard for a man who had abandoned his family to save himself the trouble of time in prison.

"Did you have something to report, brother?" Liam asked, his red tinged eyes not opening but for little slits.

"I…well…"

Liam held his hand out, palm facing his brother. "If you have nothing to say, do not hover."

Killian took two steps into the room. "Liam, what are our plans for the princess?" he asked. "She is still well, but the crew has become so that I truly don't see how we might continue."

Liam's head lolled back over the chair and his eyes closed completely. "I fear we are not able to go much farther at all," he said. "I have a mind to ask you to monitor our course and the maps for nearby ports. Perhaps we can have her go ashore there to wait for a privateer."

"Agreed," Killian said. "We cannot continue safely much longer. Have any of the men shown any signs of recovery?"

"None," Liam noted. "The first men to fall ill are still suffering as much as the most recent. It is the strangest thing I have ever seen."

_**Looks like I may be stuck at home in the snow for a day or two this week. Don't let me get bored - give me some feedback please.** _


	6. Chapter 6

Killian avoided the sick crew members the best he could, spending the majority of his time alone, with Emma, or even with his brother. He’d taken over the navigation duties, participated in shifts steering the ship at night, cooking meals for himself, Emma and Liam, and even managed to repair two of the sails when their worn nature required it. He slept little and ate even less as the supplies began dwindling with no one able to manage their use.

His neck and back ached as he leaned over a map with his compass and tools. Each port he saw was not necessarily out of the grasp of the oncoming curse and some were not safe for any woman, let alone one of royal stature. Liam had not said as much, but Killian was preparing himself to stay with her until safe passage could be obtained for her to arrive at her fiancé.

“What aren’t you telling me?” she had asked that night at dinner upon insisting that he dine with her merely to hear the breath of another human. “Is there some new menace?”

“There is always some threat to life on the seas,” Killian told her, seeking to remain vague in discussions of the danger. There was no need to worry her about events and circumstances beyond their control. “I am always alert to them.”

She sipped at the weak tasting tea that Killian insisted was the only way he knew to make it. “I can protect myself,” she reminded him. “I am not helpless, but you not sharing the threats with me leave me at a disadvantage.”

He knew that she was capable and more than ready to defend herself against scoundrels and the like. Had he not come upon her when he did, she probably would have done more than broken the man’s nose, but there is a problem with that. She should not have always had to care for herself and defend herself. Someone should love her enough to fight those battles alongside of her. She would object to being rescued, but to fight with her at his side seems a natural thing.

“I would never put you at any greater risk,” he said, almost sounding as if he were making a vow. “I simply don’t prefer to deal in conjecture. The likelihood that we will be confronted with a dangerous situation is high, but guessing what it will be seems a waste.”

Her cup of tea remained in her hand as her eyes searched its murky contents for answers to her unspoken questions. “Will your brother stop you from visiting me once the other crew members are well?”

He hesitated, as he knew that she was probably right to ask. Liam did not seem to have much trust in his abilities to remain neutral with the princess and seemed even more determined for his brother to protect his reputation and his heart. “I cannot predict the future,” he said with a sad smile. “I’m not capable of that.”

She knew that she could not either, not really. He was looking at the leather journal that sat off to the side of their meal. “I’ve been reading them,” she admitted, almost shyly. “I did not have much in the way of reading material so I thought that I might, but I didn’t mean to do anything to upset you or your brother.”

“It’s fine,” Killian said, his jaw held tightly. “There is nothing particularly private in those pages.”

She tilted her head to the right, allowing him to settle over the idea of her reading that information. “I don’t have to read them,” she said. “If it matters, I have read nothing that affected my opinion of your brother or you in a negative fashion. Your brother appears to have been made for a life at sea and cares deeply for his crew. It is refreshing to see.”

The lieutenant’s jaw twitched a bit. “And me?” he asked, instantly regretting the invitation for her to analyze him.

“You seem to want to please your brother,” she said, carefully picking her words. “That is admirable.” Her golden hair glowed by the dim light from the cabin, curls cascading like a waterfall on her back. Her dress was a robin’s egg blue with delicate pearl buttons and a finely intricate lace at the neck and sleeves. Killian could not help but think that she belonged in grand parlor instead of a lacking ship.

“Is that my best quality?” he asked, a dimple flashing at the uncomfortable way she looked back into her tea. “I’m sorry. That was an unfair question.”

She smiled in relief. “No, it’s not,” she said lightly. “You have many good qualities, Killian,” she said. “Not least of which is your loyalty and devotion to your brother and anyone you care about.”

“I suppose I am like my brother in that way,” he answered. “He’s always shown great affection and allegiance to those he loves.”

“Including the lady Celeste?” she asked, noting the look of surprise on his face. “I read of her in some of his early journals.

“Did you? I’m afraid that you might be at the advantage then, as I have few memories of her. She was a lass who lived near the academy where Liam studied. He became enamored with her and planned to marry her.” He said these words very stoically.

“What became of her?” she asked. “Your brother’s journals don’t say. He simply fails to mention her.”

“After he received his first commission, she was stricken with a fever much like the one afflicting the crew of this ship. She expired a few days later.”

***AAA***

Captain Liam Jones knew what it was like to feel tired, the bone weariness and cloudiness of his thoughts familiar to him. But the way he felt as his boots dragged along the corridor of the Jewel of the Realm was beyond all familiar. It scared him to his core.

“I’m leaving you to your work,” he told one of the sailors who had been on duty for the past six hours without break. His head swam in the most uncomfortable of ways as his shoulders took turns bumping against the walls.

He had expected to find Killian in their quarters they had taken to sharing since the illness broke out, but his brother was at some other place. It was probably something he knew about, he thought, as Killian had taken on multiple roles and been lacking sleep almost as much as the captain himself. There were no real worries in Liam’s head that the princess was luring his brother into some sort of fanciful engagement. Her demeanor and behavior since his untruthful statement had been that of pure disassociation. He’d not so much as heard his brother utter her given name or visit her for more than a meal or instructions.

The dim light of the lantern hanging in his room seemed inopportunely bright and disturbing, he thought, his leather boots dragging on the floor. His stomach spasmed in a pain as he collapsed ungracefully onto the thin mattress and flailed for his boots. The bile burned in his throat in an attempt to release itself from his body. He’d not felt this badly since his first days at sea when he’d suffered as most naval men did from horrible sea sickness, wondering then if his body had some sort of aversion to this life he’d chosen.

“It seems quite real now,” a voice said from the other side of the room. Liam’s clenched eyes flew open in search of the woman who had said such a thing. She could not be there, but he had to see. “You never were a believer in anything that you couldn’t see yourself. If it wasn’t written in one of your books, it didn’t exist.”

Lifting up his neck to raise his head, Liam forgot his boots and let his feet relax to the floor. “Celeste?” he called out, his mind spinning as to why he would hear her voice.

“Of course,” she said, a bit softer and gentler than her earlier barb to him.

It could not be Celeste, Liam told himself again, hoping to ward off the disappointment that he was right. The voice of whomever was speaking to him was so familiar and warm, but it was impossible. The woman, Celeste, had died several years before. Her voice could only bring bad things now, which scared Liam all the more.

“You’re ill,” the voice said, a little closer, and if Liam closed his eyes, mixed with a warm breath against his skin. “You’ve taken ill with the fever of the others.”

He nodded dumbly, knowing that the voice was speaking a truth. He’d denied it as much as his mind would allow, but this was more than just exhaustion that had his eyes burning and his stomach violently spasming against him.

“She can’t get sick too. Get her off the ship.”

He thought about protesting to the voice, explaining that his brother had mapped out the various possibilities and settled on one just 36 hours before. It seemed silly to argue it now, but his voice was aching to say something to her. He needed that connection, even if it was just his imagination or his fever.

“You’ve always been a hero,” the voice spoke again. “Do it now, Liam. You will never be the hero of this journey if you let her fall to this illness.”

His heart beat against his chest in an alarming rhythm and his body surged with a heat that he could only associate with fire. There was not a part of him that did not ache or hurt so badly that he would not cry out if he thought it might offer some relief. His vision was hazy and the woman standing above him sounded and looked so much like Celeste that he wanted to believe it true though the nagging voice inside him reminded him that was a bad idea.

“Trust him,” the voice said again, weaker than it was before. “There are reasons for this journey that you don’t even realize yet. Don’t let your fear and pride interfere with them.”

***AAA***

Killian found his brother collapsed on the floor of their shared quarters, the man’s body drenched in sweat and his eyes wildly moving behind closed lids. A redness had taken over his sickly pallor as the lieutenant knelt to inspect Liam’s form. “Brother,” he called out, shaking the man’s shoulder gently and then a bit harder.

Matching blue eyes met each other and Liam’s hoarse cough shook his body. “Killian,” he muttered, his words barely audible over the rattled breathing. “Get her away from the ship. It’s certain death to continue here.”

Confusion marred the younger brother’s face as he reached out to pull the captain to his feet. Liam refused the gesture. “Brother, what…”

“Take one of the…” Liam coughed violently. “Get the two of you away from here. Take what you need. Get to a safe…”

He nodded, vocalizing his agreement when Liam began to repeat himself. “I will get you, Emma, and myself away from the ship,” Killian said, looking wildly about the room for what he needed to carry.

“No,” Liam rasped, his hand bracing Killian’s arm. “Don’t…You must take her away from here. It’s a death trap. I’m…It’s too late for me.”

***AAA***

Killian filled the thin sack that had once held either oats or flour with as many supplies from the galley as would fit. There were two partially full bags of grains and he grabbed them too, holding them in one hand as he pushed past two crew members seeking some sort of warm food. He ignored them, hoping they did not see his hoarding of a large portion of the food supplies.

Emma gasped as he pushed into her room, her sleep heavy eyes not sure why anyone was next to the bed where she’d been sleeping. Only a thin outline of a shadow was able to be discerned and until he spoke, she was contemplating how best to overtake her would-be attacker.

“Emma,” he said, his own voice hoarse, “you must awaken and follow me. Dress in layers and carry with you anything you might need.”

She gathered the thick woolen blankets about herself and stared at the shadow disconcertedly. Having pulled the blankets so tight, her bare feet now peeped out from under and felt the cool air of the room. “What’s the matter?” she asked, waiting for him to clarify.

“Please,” he said, a pleading in her voice. “You must get ready and follow me. We’re going to row to shore and make our way to the nearest town. It’s best this way.”


	7. Chapter 7

**_I will try to have another chapter for you tonight. The snow is melting here and my children are enjoying some movies so I may have a little time to write. As always, I thank you for those who take the time to review and write to me. It is the best motivation._ **

Killian pulled the small boat onto the shore out of the dangers of the tide. His arms ached tremendously from the oars and the exertion of carrying the scant supplies ashore. While Emma had certainly helped, refusing to allow him to shoulder all the burden, he’d purposefully directed her to the smaller loads. The look in her eye when she examined a not even half-full sack was clear that she was on to his attempt.

She’d not asked him where they were, for which he was grateful. The hastily marked and measured map that he’d tucked in with the supplies did not even show any islands at this area. That meant that either the map was wrong or he was in his navigation. So he was thankful for her silence on the issue and her reluctance to challenge him at that moment, as well as her somewhat encouraging smile when he made a suggestion.

The island was rather small and from his vantage point he could tell that there were no signs of life or inhabitants on it. The trees and the way that they changed from the salt poisoned variety near the shore to the lushness of a forest nearby told him there must be fresh water available. Scanning the expanse of the blue see, he saw no other land masses, which certainly worried him immensely. They would have to venture out again to find people.

“I suppose we should look to find shelter,” Killian said after the boat was secured and he took a quick inventory of their belongings. She had spent that time repacking and redistributing the weight of the sacks and items. “You are good at that,” he praised.

“I used to watch my mother’s maids prepare her belongings for any travels,” Emma brushed off the compliment. “It seemed like a game to me at the time to see how they could protect everything and make it fit.” Her hair hung down her back in a long thick braid that she flipped over her shoulder and she leaned over one of the bags to lift it as a test. “Perhaps I should leave you to the issue of the shelter and I should find some water for us.” His mouth opened to protest, but she was already seeking out appropriate vessels for her task. She looked at him rather apologetically. “I know you are reluctant to have me venture off by myself, but it would be prudent.” She pointed toward the horizon. “Storm clouds.”

He nodded, his eyes studying the strange looking clouds that had gathered and would probably envelope them in about two hours. “Shout out if you are in need,” he said. “I won’t be too far from here.”

She agreed, leaving him on the shore with a worried look on his face as she disappeared into the trees and thick foliage. His ears stayed perked for her possible distress as he inspected the land for a spot that was dry and would be somewhat protected from the oncoming and any other storm. Had he been alone, he might have considered merely using a tree as protection, but he did not want to place her in any more harm’s way.

He made quick work creating a crude shelter for them for the night, using a sail that he had been repairing aboard the Jewel of the Realm as a tarp. Emma had brought back as much water as she could carry in the two water sacks and an empty bottle. Without him protesting too much, she also helped him spread the sail over the wooden pilings he’d fashioned.

“We make quite a team,” she said, her voice almost teasing as she again dug into their supplies that he had piled under the protection of the makeshift shelter.

His hands were kneading along the lower edge of his back, his eyes watching her curiously. “What are you searching for?”

“I brought something that might help,” she explained. Triumphantly she held up a faded pack that he realized had been made from one of the standard issue blankets from the ship. “I hate these things, but I thought it might be good to have here.”

There was no doubt that it would come in handy, he told her and then set about another task of gathering firewood that they could store until after the storm had passed. “It will be much easier to build a fire with dry wood,” he explained to her as she set off to do the same.

***AAA***

Liam struggled to the deck, his every step bringing about pain and agony. The ship was so quiet that it seemed to him almost ghostly with only occasional images of pale men struggling against the illness. Occasionally he could hear Celeste’s voice, instructing him, encouraging him, but that was not exactly comforting.

“You’re here because I’m dying,” he said weakly at one point. She did not confirm or deny this assessment.

“Captain,” the lilting voice of one of his healthiest crew members. Once he had the attention of the curly haired officer, the voice continued. “There are clouds on the horizon that you should see.”

The clouds were unlike anything that either man had ever seen. Deep shades of purple swirled ominously and built up and covered everything in a mysterious fog that was so thick that nothing shown through. The captain squinted at the approaching storm, fear coursing through him as it grew closer. “Can we outrun it, mate?”

Howell shook his head. “Maybe if we’d started earlier, but it is a lost cause now,” the man said. “I would suggest we batten down and prepare for a rough sea. Perhaps we can weather the storm.” Howell was a middle aged man with kind eyes and a mouth that was always shown off by his thin lips. He had a gentle way of speaking and Liam had heard that the man was kind hearted. Killian had a tendency to befriend members of the crew, swapping stories on late night duty and learning of their family, hobbies, and friends. He could recall that data on the drop of a hat.

“It matters not,” Liam said, realizing that this was a bigger danger than the illness had been. Thankfully he had listened to the voice that had told him to rid the ship of the princess, knowing that this was just the sort of thing that her parents had warned him against.

The clouds were moving at an unprecedented speed. Liam wondered if it was the clouds that thundered like horses or if it was his own heartbeat in his ears. He nodded a formal gesture to Howell and motioned to the ladder leading below. “Take cover,” he said. “I shall take the brunt of it.”

***AAA***

The storm that had seemed so ominous just 90 minutes before appeared to be taking another route, Killian determined from peering into the spyglass. The toes of his boots were damp as he stood at the edge of the water line and his hair tousled by the breeze that seemed determined to blow across him. Behind him there were birds chirping in conversation that Killian could only guess was pleasant and Emma was determinedly perusing their scant belongings for an inventory of her own.

“How sure are you that there is no village nearby?” she asked him when she approached. Her long red dress was not what he would have pictured for stealing away into the night, but neither were his uniform pieces that were now stained with his work and sweat. “I only ask because…”

“You saw the food supplies,” he finished for her, a flat tone that was not a question but a statement. “We will have to make them last for now. I’ll try to fashion a way for me to hunt. Perhaps there are some small creatures on this island that will suffice. I suppose we could see if I inherited the skills of my father when it comes to fishing. He might have been a scoundrel and a thief, but he was a good fisherman.”

Emma had read Liam’s account of their father and gleaned that he was not a good man or parent. “I won’t be helpless in the matter either,” she told her chaperone turned partner. “My mother survived quite a while on the run and taught me some things about foraging. You might find that helpful.”

“I’m sure I will,” he said, looking again through the spyglass. “The storm seems to have turned. I think it will miss us completely.” He passed the cylindrical object to Emma and waiting for her to take a look. She took carefully, unsure of its use and purpose. However, instead of asking, she mimicked his earlier action and stared out into the vastness of the sea. Finding her focus, she whipped it away from her eye and looked out in the same location with a squint.

“It makes things appear closer,” he explained.

“I’m aware of that,” she said, frowning that he would insult her intelligence. “I was just surprised at the sight of those clouds.”

“They are fearsome,” he agreed. “I have not seen any of its measure before.” She passed the spyglass back to him, averting her eyes from the mass of clouds. A light mist began to fall upon them, not from the passing storm but from an errant cloud. Killian guided her back to their shelter with his hand below her elbow.

“I’m glad we won’t see it up close,” she admitted. “I’m not much in the way of storms.” The confession rolled off of her tongue, but she could see in his eyes that he was shocked by it and her face flushed with that knowledge of her error.

“You are admitting to fear, your highness?” he teased, realizing too late that he had gone back to her title rather than her name. Over the past few days he had carefully avoided both.

“As a child it was a fear,” Emma said pointedly. “Thunder was loud and our palace was in a deep valley. The loudness echoed.”

He paused, watching her standing perfectly still as if facing an enemy. He’d expected her to flounce away in indignation at being teased. “It is a natural childhood fear,” he said softly. “I may have had it myself.”

That did provoke a smile from her as she began to walk again. “You admit to your fears lieutenant?” she asked. “I’m astonished. You don’t seem to admit to much.”

Killian ducked his head for a moment and then raised it to study her. “You have been reading my brother’s journals,” he said. “Did you find nothing in them that would tell you of my fears?”

“A few things,” she admitted. “There was a story of you being petrified of a neighbor’s calf. That might have burned itself into my memory.” She actually laughed, musically mocking him as they walked from the water back to where they had made camp. She moaned a bit as she lowered herself to the ground that he was sure was cold and unsuitable for her.

“I apologize that the accommodations are not better for you,” he disdainfully waved his hands about the area. “I’m sure you are more accustomed to finery and luxury.” His eyes were lit with a teasing appearance, but she did not look up to recognize the jest.

“Of course,” she told him sourly. “I grew up in a palace, but that does not mean that I feel that I am above people or their lots in life. I can sleep on the floor or the ground. I can do heavy work, as well. It is not in my nature to be pampered and coddled.”

“I meant nothing by that statement,” he told her. “I simply was pointing out that this is beyond even my usual lodgings. I don’t relish the idea of a cold ground as a bed rather than a straw mattress.”

She spread her legs out in front of her, the long skirts of her red dress falling over them. “I can’t say that the idea of this as a bed is all that appealing to me either. I apologize for assuming that you consider me lesser and unable to adjust because of my station.”

“One would be rash to underestimate you,” he said, lowering himself next to her. “Perhaps we should find a new understanding. Otherwise we are surely going to pull each other apart in these circumstances.” He glanced up to the white sail that was now serving as their roof. The tear that he had mended was sewn in lopsided stitches by his own hand, a scar that marred the perfect sail. He reached his finger up to touch it.

“How do we do that?” she asked, her eyes following his tracings. “We have not quarreled or fought.”

“No, we haven’t,” he agreed. “We had an agreeable association before my brother reassigned me. Perhaps we should try to return to that. I learned much from you that you don’t like it when I attempt to protect or serve you. So I shall do my best not to do so.”

She looked a bit forlorn as his hand lowered and he drew his legs up as if about to stand. “Your brother said you are to be married,” she said, almost blurting out the words. “Will this setback delay that? I wouldn’t want…”

His head swiftly turned to her. “My brother said that to you?” he asked.

“Yes, he did. He was…I don’t want you to feel that you of any obligation to me. I would hate that.”

***AAA***

Liam felt the first shards of pain as the clouds swathed the Jewel of the Realm in the thick purple vapor. There was a strong wind that seemed to only strike at him rather than the ship’s sails and equipment. He could hear the anguished cries from the men below and the sound of ripping echoing across what felt like nothingness. His feet no longer felt planted on the planks of the ship’s deck. His hands no longer felt secure on the wheel.

Perhaps he was floating or falling, he surmised about the time he realized that this storm had no rain or hail. It was only a strangling wind that seemed to sit on his chest and remove any bit of life out of him.

Then there was blackness.


	8. Chapter 8

Propriety told Killian that they should not sleep that closely, especially sharing a blanket as she insisted was the only way they could both remain warm. He was fully dressed, other than his boots, and she was removing her dress and loosening the corset stays that were too tight for sleep. He had no intention of anything improper, but he was human and couldn’t help but notice her beauty. The fact that she seemed not to parade in it was only one other reason that he assumed his heart beat a little differently around her.

Her back was flush against his back so that they could share the blanket, her words apologizing for only thinking to bring one rather than two. She felt warm to him, soft against the stiffness of the material of his uniform. He could almost hear his brother’s voice chastising him for not sleeping out in the elements. It would be preferable to be uncomfortable rather than a threat to the princess’s reputation.

The circumstances dictated differently, Emma had said to him as she lifted the blanket in a sort of invitation to him. “Nobody is going to blame us for staying warm and alive,” she explained. “It is the only way.”

While her breathing was steady and deep, a sure sign of her slumber, he had not yet found that peaceful respite from his life. His mind did not slow. His eyes did not shut as the images of the possibilities played before him. He pushed up, leaving the security of the blanket and her warmth, he stumbled toward the burning embers of the fire he had managed to build earlier. Stoking it, the flames grew slightly and the warmth reached his cheeks with the smoke wafting toward his nose.

Quietly, he reached for the map that he had carefully marked and unfurled it across his lap. The familiar paper crackling as it stretched out before him. He saw his own markings, the ink dark on the off white color. But there was little else that was familiar to him, little that seemed to resonate with him as his finger delicately traced along the lines he had drawn. “It’s changed,” he whispered. He held the map closer to his face, looking for the island with a port he’d aimed them toward. It was nothing now, a blank area on the map that only had his perfect circle around it.

The mist that had fallen earlier was now stronger, the water sizzling on the wood as the embers died out in front of him. He sat there, unseeing or feeling as water pelted him and splattered on the map. He rolled it back, protecting it under his arm, but the water had already plastered his hair to his head and trailed in rivulets down his skin. By the time he made his way to the shelter of his haphazard lodging, he was drenched and uncaring. If the map was to be believed there was no civilization for miles. He’d taken them so far off course that they were sure to die before anyone would find them.

Staring down at her sleeping form, he felt as though he owed her an apology. He’d done this to protect her, but his stupidity and arrogance had put her in danger. Without the warmth of the blanket she had offered, the lieutenant curled into himself and let the sleep he’d sought overtake him, hoping that it would wash away the thoughts of failure and disappointment.

***AAA***

Killian’s throat felt dry and scratchy when the sun managed to peek out from behind the morning clouds. His head ached and his limbs felt heavy as he pried his eyes open to see a blonde curtain over him. For a moment he wondered what had happened and where he was that such a creature might hover and entrance him with a beautifully etched face.

“Emma?” he asked, coughs racking his body. “What…”

“Shhhhh,” she soothed, wiping his forehead with a damp material that felt silky on his brow. “You’re running a fever.”

He forced his hand up to grip her wrist, stopping the gentle motion. “Is it...”

“I don’t think so,” she whispered, wrestling her wrist out of his grasp. “It’s different than the crew. I think that…I’m not a physician. Now just rest. I don’t know what else to do for you other than to get the fever down.”

He felt his heavy eyelids falling and the world becoming farther away as she continued to dab at his forehead. In a situation much to the reverse of their interactions in the past, he wanted to tell her to stop and that her attention was not necessary. However, he doesn’t have the strength to do so. Instead he lets sleep overtake him like a merciful reprieve from the throbbing of his head.

When he woke up hours later, the sun was low in the sky and a bright orangish glow had saturated everything in his eye line. Emma was still at his side, her hands busily dipping the red cloth into water and dabbing it across his forehead and on each cheek. “Are you hungry?” she asked, gathering herself to stand and move toward a fire. He was surprised to see it still burning, as he had not been awake enough to have maintained it. She obviously had.

“Thirsty,” he answered, his voice sounded broken and his lips were so dry that they were cracked. He watched her nod and place give him a short drink of the fresh water. She then rubbed his lips with the damp cloth. “You have turned into that nursemaid after all.”

She laughed lightly. “I am happy that your fever allows you to view me as something other than a princess,” she said. “You do need to eat though. Just a small meal?”

“If the princess insists,” he said, his joke sounding weaker with his voice. “You…”

“Rest your voice,” she told him, scrambling back to the fire to warm some of the oats and water. “If you completely lose your voice, I don’t know what I’d do. How could I possibly live without your constant chatter?” She kept up the conversation as she cooked, not allowing him much of a chance to respond. She told him of how high the tide had come in, the way the birds had swooped down to catch fish in their beaks, and crabs she had found scurrying along the water line. He had tried to follow her stream of conversation, but the lure of more rest was stronger. She woke him with the food at his lips that she insisted he eat.

“You’re quite dictatorial,” he accused.

“I’m a princess,” she reminded him with a grin on her lips.

“When it suits you.”

“Stop fighting and eat.”

***AAA***

There were voices that seemed to fade in and out, people moving about that he could not see, and other indistinguishable sounds and smells that the captain of the Jewel of the Realm had never experienced. Most of the time it was lost to him, a deep blackness that seemed to rock him and comfort him. In that darkness he was home with a mother he had not seen in years, a fiancé who was waiting for him with open arms, and a brother who followed him around with pleading and learned eyes.

There were several such patients at Storybrooke Hospital, but nobody could quite remember how they got there or why they were nameless in the dim lights of the ward. An elementary school class visited from time to time, each of them bringing flowers and trinkets as instructed by their teacher. He knew nothing of this and probably never would, but there was a comfort in being noticed. It would be better to be recognized.

Mary Margaret Blanchard slipped out of the room where the most severe of the cases rested, a John Doe who she often left flowers for on his bedside table. Even though she was quite petite, she towered over her small students as she gathered them and gave a quick once over the room. “Good job,” she told them.

His was the last bed beside the door, but his sleeping form could not know that. The brunette teacher and her students always dropped off his flowers first, though only occasionally did the scent of them break through to reach his nose. “Feel better,” one young girl said, patting the stark white sheets of his bed.

The words of good wishes for his health reminded him of Killian. His brother had been so young and small when their mother had died, but each day she was an audience for her two sons. They had regaled her with stories of the local school, their adventures about the village, and their grand plans for adulthood as she was racked with coughs and grew weaker by the day. Killian, the hopeful and loving lad that he was, had wished her well after their time with her. “Feel better, mama,” he would say as he ducked out to meet the ships that were coming in and see if any of the fishermen might spare a trout or other delectable.

With those two words still swimming in his head, Liam Jones slept on.

***AAA***

Killian’s dreams were just as scattered as his brothers. There were moments when he was aware that Emma was caring for him, recognized her hand as she ran it along his face to feel for signs of his temperature changing and heard the soft melodic hum as she tried to sooth him from what she assumed to be a nightmare. Then other times he was in another time and pace that included family long gone and places that were hazy memories in his wakeful life.

“You look better today,” Emma said when his weary eyes met hers that morning. Her hair was still in the braid that he had seen so many times before, but it was a messy twist that had been neglected in favor of her other duties. “Are you feeling poorly still?”

He wanted to sit up, to give some semblance of normalcy to the situation. However, the heaviness of his body was too much for him and the earth felt so hard beneath him that he worried about falling back down on it. “Do I?” he asked in return.

She ran one of her soft hands across his forehead, flipping from palm to the back of her hand. “You don’t feel as feverish and your eyes seem stronger,” she yielded carefully. “I think that you may be on the mend, Killian.”

He watched her busy herself with the fire and preparing something hot for him. The portion was small and her apologetic expression told him that it was her way of ensuring their survival a bit longer. “I am fine at building a fire,” she explained, gathering her legs and skirts underneath herself to sit at his side. She helped to pull him to a sitting position, keeping her grip on him until he was balanced and not feeling as a newborn. “I’ve managed to repair the shelter when the wind got up two nights ago. I’ve gathered water, firewood, and some of the berries that I knew were safe. But I am not very skilled at hunting.”

“One would not expect you to be,” he sputtered as another cough hit him. “Are we low on food?”

“We were never in abundance,” she reminded him. “I have been trying to ration them appropriately, but you need food to keep your strength up.”

He touched his head with his hand, opening his mouth to her attempt to feed him. There was a small voice that reminded him that he was better and capable of holding the spoon himself, but she was so ardent in her attempts to heal him that he allowed his own momentary weakness toward her. “How long have I been asleep?” he asked.

“About three days,” she said. “You seemed most comfortable in your sleep so I tried not to disturb you.”

“I shall have to repay you somehow for all that you’ve done to care for me,” he said, feeling a bit unsure as he looked down at himself and realized that she had changed his clothing into the only other he had brought.

“You were wet with the sweat of your fever and the rain that you must have sat out in like a fool,” she explained without his question. “I left your others to dry over there.”

He flushed at the thought of her undressing him to the point that she asked if his fever was returning. He assured her that he was on the mend and that she should finish the rest of the meal herself. “I doubt you have done as good of a job caring for yourself as you have done for me, Emma.”

She smiled at the sound of her name. “If there is one good thing about this,” she said, sinking back in her seated stance, “it is that you have returned to calling me Emma.”

“I suppose knowing that you have undressed me and that we are far from the prying eyes of my brother and the crew have lessened my reservations at being a bit familiar,” he answered, nodding to encourage her to take her own bite of the food. “And your smile is such that I think you greatly approve of me using your name.”

She nodded. “Your brother did not approve of it?” she asked. “I suppose because of your own betrothal? I can imagine that a woman who is engaged to you would find it upsetting for you to be so familiar with another woman.”

He remembered their halted conversation not long before he fell ill. “You need not worry about that,” he said. “I have no such obligation to any woman. I am unsure why my brother would misrepresent me to you in such a way.” He did know, as surely as he knew that his brother, if he was still alive, was probably imagining how much dishonor Killian was bringing upon himself and the crown.

“Your brother is protective,” she said slowly. “Not only of me as his passenger, but of you as his brother. It is an admirable thing.”


	9. Chapter 9

It took a few days before Killian felt well enough to move about the island, though he fought for that opportunity at every waking moment. Sometimes he even drifted off mid argument, which made Emma giggle at his stubbornness and inability to relax and rest despite the necessity. Emma learned that doing things while he was asleep meant that he could not protest and that she could prevent him from trying himself. She kept herself busy gathering fresh items to eat, collecting water and firewood, as well as monitoring his condition. She watched for passing ships, hoping that there would be some sign of life that would lead them to the village he had seemed so determined to reach. None came.

While food was certainly not abundant in their resources, she’d managed to forage for some items and even found berries that she remembered her mother telling her about from her days on the run. Reducing them in water over the open flame of the fire she maintained created a syrupy broth that seemed to soothe Killian’s throat and quieted his coughing. She could not resist the swell of pride that being able to help him solicited within her. Her governess had once spoken of making a patient feel better with a bit of whiskey or ale, but when she asked Killian about his supplies of such liquid, he scoffed and told her that he did not touch the stuff.

When he was finally able to journey out from their shelter, she had told him that she was not letting him go too far alone. “Your light headed spells are still an issue,” she reminded him. “At least let me accompany you so that we can work together.”

He’d offered her a tight lipped grin. “I think you dislike being left behind.”

“Who would wish to be left behind in such a state?” she answered with her own question. “I am capable.”

His smile was a little wider. “You seem to like telling me of your capability.” It was true that most of their arguments stemmed from her assuming that he was doubting her.

She laughed, brushing back her hair with her free hand. “You don’t seem to listen when I do, so I must repeat myself.”

He followed her along the narrow path that she now knew very well. He had been down it only once in search of firewood so he let her take the lead. There was no surprise in this to her, as she adeptly pursued the trail with him following. She finally was able to ask him about why he had no plans to move them from the island that from the best of her knowledge was uninhabited.

“How could a map have changed?” Emma asked a now healthier Killian as they made their way through the thicket of woods that separated the shore from a fresh water pond that she had found. “Maps don’t just change, at least not on their own.” The tale he was spinning was fantastical, but she did believe him and did not even linger over the details that seemed fuzzy in his mind.

“I don’t have an answer for you,” he said, bending a few of the branches so that they could pass without incident. “My brother told me on more than one occasion that the wood and sails of the Jewel of the Realm were enchanted, but he never fully explained their powers. I don’t think that would have bearing on maps.”

Emma’s surefooted steps slowed as she bent to brush aside some of the underbrush from her shoes. “It might be a good place to start though,” she said. “There must be an explanation for it.” It was the third time she had said such a thing since he had told her of the mysterious changes on the map. His worry had been that she would want to blindly navigate until they found something, but she was not quite as impetuous as he had first thought.

“You’re right, Emma,” he said, “but the logic of this changing map escapes me.” He stepped in front of her to fill their water vessels, taking a moment to look up at the day’s clear and cloudless sky. “I can’t say that I am certain, but those portentous clouds we saw might have something to do with this occurrence. It seems a likely explanation.”

“Magic, you mean?” Emma asked, looking at the calm still surface of the water. “Could it have been the curse that my parents were so worried about?” Her parents had told her that the curse would steal their memories and create new identities, but that seemed a nebulous description.

Kneeling at the edge of the water, he cupped his hand to bring some of the substance to his mouth. “I’m not very knowledgeable of curses,” he admitted. “But those clouds do trouble me. I have seen nothing of their kind before, but more than that…”

“They did not seem natural,” Emma said, kneeling beside him for her own drink of water. “I know little of magic, but I could sense it from those clouds. It is just that they did not behave normally.”

He looked slightly amused as he used his left hand to steady himself as his boots sunk into the damp earth. “How should a curse behave, Emma?” he asked with a little snicker. “Are their rules?”

“You are teasing,” she said with her own laugh escaping. “I only meant that you saw it too. It did not come near us, though it was on a direct course. It was as if something shielded us from its grasp.” She shuddered a little with the thought. She’d never told Killian of who had set the curse or her own connection to it, assuming that if he needed to know that her parents would have said something to him and Liam. It was not exactly something she was proud of knowing, as she was the step-granddaughter of a woman who had chosen to extract this toll on an entire kingdom rather than accept the apology of her step-daughter.

“You seem to know about it more than you say.” His brow was furrowed and his tongue ran along his lips. “Do you?”

“I don’t,” she said, shaking her head. “We both have many questions. For instance, what about your brother? Was the ship taken with the curse? What has become of him?”

“I am afraid that I don’t know,” Killian said somewhat shortly, Standing, he brushed his hands on his thighs. “We should head back.”

Emma followed him through the path without a sound until they were half way to the shoreline once again. “We have that in common, you know?” Her voice sounded small and distant, not at all like herself. “It hurts to know that something has happened to the people you love, but you are not privy to that or able to stop it.”

“Your parents?”

She shrugged, her face threatening to betray her. “Yes,” she finally said. “My parents said they knew they would be swept up in this curse. That’s a given, but I don’t know what it means. I don’t know where they are or even if they still exist. It is hard to mourn or worry when you don’t know which is the appropriate response.”

“And you assume the same is true of my brother?” he asked.

“You don’t know if the curse overtook him or if he succumbed to that illness aboard the ship. You have no way of knowing any more than I do. We have that fear and doubt in common.”

“That we do, Emma, that we do,” he said, again holding the branch so that she might pass.

A few hours later he asked her what else she had seen on the island. When she looked at him in confusion, he explained that they had probably only seen a bit of it and there might be something of use elsewhere.

“I have seen no smoke or signs of life here,” she insisted as he began to pace out his steps toward the boat that he had rowed away from the Jewel of the Realm and inspected it carefully. “What are you looking for, Killian?”

His hands delicately inspected the seams of the boat, cupping handfuls of water against them to see if any trickled through. “I am thinking that at daybreak I should row about the shoreline as best as I can to inspect where we are. It is more efficient than going by foot.”

“And I should go inland?” she queried, looking back at the darkness of the forest. “Perhaps I have overlooked something.”

He frowned, again standing and looking at the two oars that remained in the boat. “I would prefer that you…”

“We are partners in this,” she reminded him. “You aren’t expected to protect and defend me just because your brother took such a job from my father. I can help. The quicker we determine our whereabouts and how to best get ourselves on the right path the better we are in this.”

He eyed her again, appraising the slight pinkness of cheeks and the way her eyes seemed light and bright though framed with thick lashes. “Are you in such a hurry to get to your new husband to be?” he asked. “I seem to recall that you were quite nervous about that when we spoke before.”

“I’m simply saying that we need to know where we are and what we are to face,” she said to him evenly, regretting that he did know so much about her. “Wouldn’t you think that our looking at every possibility would be keener than just relying on your observations?” She pulled at the edges of her sleeves, hiding her hands beneath their red fabric. He noticed that the lace that had edged them was now missing, appearing to have been torn rather than cut.

“Your dress,” he said, his fingers touching the thick fabric with the same gentleness that he had inspected the boat.

“Lace and hard work don’t get along well together,” she told him, not yet pulling her arms and hands out of his reach. “I kept getting them caught on the logs and kindling that I was hauling back here. It seemed easier just to remove that obstacle.” She closed her eyes as he pushed back the fabric and held her hand.

“Your hands,” he said,” looking at the angry red marks and blisters on her skin. “You’re hurt.”

“I did not pack gloves.” She gave a half laugh and pulled her hand back. “Are you intending to inspect me so closely, lieutenant?” Her expression softened as he pulled both of his hands closer to his eyes, wrapping his long fingers around her wrists.

“You should have told me,” he said, adding as an afterthought the recognition of his own title. “I thought we determined that titles were not necessary in such a circumstance.”

“When should I?” she asked. “When you were having conversations with your mother because of your fever? When you were crying out for your brother? Or when you were convinced that you were dying and asked me to hold your hand in your final breaths? When would have been the time to tell you of something as insignificant as a few blisters?” She shrugged her shoulders, but his grip did not lessen.

“I was meant to protect you,” he said, grimacing as he realized he had nothing to soothe her injuries. “I was not meant to cause you more pain.” The blue of his eyes seemed a bit darker as he though. “I have a solution though. We shall explore this island together.”

“How do you propose we do that?” she asked. “We will waste precious time if you must wait for me.”

He shook his head. “I think I should climb that tree,” he pointed toward a particularly tall one just to the right of their camp. “I cannot reach the lower branches though. You could help me, perhaps? Give me a boost?”

She finally pulled her hands back from him, rubbing their sore and rough textures against the smoothness of her dress. “Are you making work for me so that I might feel useful?”

He smiled as he bent down to adjust his right boot. “Emma, I am not so foolish as to placate you with unnecessary tasks in an effort to show you your worthiness. And if I may be so bold, I must say that it would be quite helpful if you were to stop doubting me at every turn. I merely want to protect you and by extension myself. If you insist that every gesture I make is some scheme, we will never accomplish anything.”

She looked as though she might apologize, her sardonic expression melting into something more regretful. “How do I help you or give you a boost, Killian?”

He did not think, but again reached for her wrist, pulling her along with him. “I will show you.”

By the time Killian reached the top of the tree the shadows were growing long and the sun had dropped in the sky. “Be careful,” Emma called out as Killian precariously balanced himself on a branch and reached for his spyglass. She could tell that he was seeing nothing to help them by the swift way he switched vantage points. He focused on nothing, settled his gaze for only seconds before moving to the next. So she was not surprised when he climbed down and shook his head.

“It’s a small island, as we suspected,” he said. “There’s pockets of trees and a small inlet on the other side. A few smaller islands are in view, but that’s it. I see no large masses of land or even obvious shipping lanes.” He leaned his back against the trunk of the tree, resting one foot flat against it as well.

“Which means?”

“There is no point in trying to get to another location,” he said sadly and bluntly. “We would not make it by boat and there is nothing by foot. We are stuck here for now.”


	10. Chapter 10

**_This was originally going to be two chapters, but after I finished the second one (you'll see) I couldn't leave it for another day. I hope you enjoy the banter, the flirting, the angst, and a little reward._ **

**_By the way, did you know that Captain Morgan makes a pineapple rum that is really good. I may or may not have drank some when I wrote it at 3 a.m. because I couldn't sleep. Cheers!_ **

After Killian's solemn revelation of their predicament neither really spoke other than necessary words and few sentiments. Each were lost in their own thoughts and troubles. Emma hugged her arms around herself as the sun set, not feeling a physical cold but a resolute knowledge that her future was in jeopardy as the cottony pink clouds glowed with the last remnants of the sunlight. She could hear him moving about their campsite, checking on their belongings and making plans that seemed to her to be without true purpose. What did it matter? That was the question that played through her mind over and over. What did it matter if their circumstances were comfortable or organized? It led them no closer to leaving. What did it matter if the lace were reattached to her dress? No other would see her with tattered sleeves.

"Dinner?" he asked her, his voice tight as though he'd been having the same thoughts. He'd watched her when his words of their desperate situation washed over her. He'd seen that glint of hope in her eyes flicker away, replaced by a coldness of resignation that was not healthy. He knew he had to change that, rescue her from her own thoughts as surely as he had wanted to save her from the curse and dangers on the ship.

She shrugged. How did you tell someone that perhaps it did not matter at all? What was the point of creating that semblance of normalcy when there was a limit to what they could sustain? Were all their efforts for naught?

He tried to keep up his end of the conversation, but even his efforts were not that successful. "Emma," he said, the last bites having been taken. "Our situation is not dire. Not really."

"Isn't it?" she asked him. "We are trapped here. Maybe there are no chains or bars, but we are imprisoned and without true recourse."

He flinched at the harshness of his tone. She'd always held some hope, some tiny thought that she would overcome the obstacles before them. "Just because our situation appears to be more than temporary does not mean that it is everlasting. We will do our best to subsist for now and hope that the changes brought about by the curse shall right themselves somehow."

She looked doubtful. "I've never known a man of any military to think that the proper recourse was subsisting or relying upon hope rather than strategy."

It was his turn to shrug, realizing that talk of hope was not going to win her over when she felt none of it. "I am not saying that hope is our only ally. We will have to work together to create our existence here. For one, I'm going to look at a more robust form of shelter for us. We are enjoying a milder climate currently, but it won't last. We must prepare for that."

"And while you are doing that? What of me?"

He chuckled, pushing the stick he held in his hand. "I thought you detested it when I made work for you or tried to make you feel useful."

"Fine, I shall find my own purpose," she added haughtily. "You are not the only useful one here." She stood up, the expression on her face less hopeless and more annoyed. He considered that a small victory. "Speaking of usefulness. It may seem a bit banal, but I would like to take charge of our food situation. Your cooking leaves something to be desired."

His eyebrow raised at her as he pointedly stared from her face to the fact that no food from dinner remained. "I was at least trained to cook for men going into battle," he reminded her. "I hardly think we will subsist long on your knowledge of mutton and teacakes."

"You truly have little respect or regard for anyone of royalty or with formal education, do you? Did your training with the navy teach you that? Did you come to find yourself as better because you were taught that or did it come naturally to you through observation?"

He watched her, seeing the determined set of her mouth and the way her eyes fired back at him. It was more alive than she had looked earlier as she had been surely contemplating the situation as one they would never overcome. "I'll have you know, Emma," he said, drawing out her name as a point, "I learned more about managing to endure prior to any education formal or otherwise. My mother was too ill to care for my brother or me, which meant that we were to care for her. Since I was younger, I was assigned the domestic tasks and my brother the responsibility to secure monetary funds for our survival."

She looked down from his piercing gaze. Her eyes still shown with an anger that he wasn't all together displeased to see. She needed that fight, he thought. She needed someone to prove wrong so that she might try to overcome.

"And as for my take on royals and people of higher status. I am generally unimpressed with their wherewithal. They are quick to shirk responsibility onto others and take credit when it comes to success. They call it leadership when in fact they have done nothing to direct that success other than celebrate it in the end. They speak of the great battles they have fought, but most have never been on the front lines of any mêlée." He half expected her to slap him for suggesting that her parents, the people she had spoken of with love, might be included in his description.

"I'm glad you have been honest with me," she said quietly, surprising him with her acceptance of is words. "At least I know what you think of me."

"Emma, I…"

"No, Killian," she said standing up from their spots they had taken by the fire. "There is no reason for either of us to stifle our words in an effort to keep civil. I've known that you had contempt for what you assume to be my background as much as I have not respected yours. At least you said it." There was obvious hurt in her eyes as she set about cleaning up after their meal. For once he did not offer to help her.

"Emma," he said after she had finished the last of her task. "You asked of my disdain for the monarchy and I gave it. It was not a personal attack. I don't know enough of you and you don't know enough of me to fully appreciate…"

She again waved off his apology. "Killian, we know enough."

"My scorn for serving a crown that does not always know what it requests or its consequences is not directed at you," he continued, ignoring her pleading look that he stop. "I have served proudly and without question. I agreed to take on the responsibility of your safety when you have fought that you needed no such assistance. And what has it gotten me but stranded on an island with you?"

"And that is so horrible? It is not the fear that we'll never be found? It is not the knowledge that our time here is limited with our present resources? It is the fact that your last days will be spent with a royal that truly bothers you?"

"You assume that your status as a princess permeates all of our interactions," he said just as harshly as she had spit out her own words. "I should not be that shocked, as I have never met a royal who was all that intelligent. Most rely upon their bloodlines and respect rather than their wits. Why my brother seems bound to a life to blindly follow your kind is a mystery to me. But I have chosen such a life as well, one that I have worked hard to achieve. Now that is for naught, as I am one again being questioned for my loyalty and service. You're right, Emma. You don't know me. You only know of your own strength that comes from your rebellion to your parents' station or the traditions that you feel trap you. You've never known real struggle. You've only heard about it at your parents' knees."

He watched her face slowly flush, her large eyes filling with fury. He knew he'd deliberately given her a barely concealed slight; but he hadn't been able to stop it. He'd always flayed with words when he was caught off balance.

Emma turned to leave, trying to maintain some of her temper and dignity, but there were few places she could go to get away from him. However, the self-preservation she'd cultivated in herself over the years, added to her stubborn streak, wouldn't let her go. Instead, she spun back around and pierced him with her furious stare.

"Tell me, Lieutenant Jones, was that the worst you could do? Or is your brain just sleep fogged? Really, I've had better insults from peasants who were strung up for not paying their taxes. Next time, try to challenge me. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut, or you might find yourself treading in very dangerous water."

He watched her stroll toward their shelter, her head held high, and her movements controlled and regal. Her rounded hips swayed with unconscious provocation, sending the dress swinging. Her speech had cut him, pulling the scabs off the still healing wounds. They'd both known exactly where to hit, making them both seem like idiots in the glimpses of each other's world. Her temper was hot when lit, her words carefully controlled in their attack. He tried to deny what had happened, but refused to lie to himself. His body had not only reacted to her physical form, but to her condemnation, also. He was a sick man, he assessed, his excitement in their confrontation perverse. He'd never wanted a woman more.

By morning neither had spoken to each other at all. Emma's expression told him that his words were still echoing in her head, but if they at all swayed or encouraged her to keep fighting he was ready to do that battle again. She had needed that, the boost to know that there was still a war waging for them to survive. If she merely settled into the idea their life now as one task after another, she would lose that hope that one day they might escape. If she hated him for it, then that was a risk he would take.

She'd provided them a cold breakfast, using some of the items she had managed in her foraging attempts. It was on the tip of his tongue to compliment her, to praise her for the efforts to feed them and to provide. But from the look on her face he knew that would be a mistake. She was in no mood for commendations.

Instead, he offered to teach her to fish. She'd looked warily at the makeshift spear he had created. "It is safer than hunting wild game," he'd said as she followed him. While she never acquiesced that this was a good plan, he could see the pride in her eyes the first time she was successful. Again, he offered no praise, letting her revel in the victory as he headed back to assess their shelter situation.

The temporary shelter he'd created out of fallen logs and the sail was a good beginning he determined, but he would need more to provide a warm place of protection. With only a small hatchet as a tool, the work was slow. Again, he found himself surprised as Emma periodically joined him, helping him to push over an already weakened tree or clearing the branches and bark from the ones that he had already felled. She seemed to look for those opportunities, the times when he seemed unable to complete a task alone to jump in and assist. There was no arguments about it.

She did not speak of the things he had said that night, nothing of the hurt that she obviously felt. He did not offer an apology either, as the statements had spurred in her a need to prove him wrong. If she was encouraged or inspired by that need to prove him wrong, he was not going to get hung up on the fact that in some ways she hated him for that moment.

The first third of the walls of their new shelter was built within three days. Killian carefully notched out the logs and Emma searched her memory banks to create just the right substance of mud and sand to paste between the logs as a way to block out the wind and elements.

"You shouldn't seem so surprised," she said that third evening as they both sat next to the fire with their limbs aching and sleep seeming imminent.

"Shouldn't I?" he asked, not sure what she was getting at anyway. It seemed simpler to challenge her than to ask what she meant.

"You keep staring at my hands," she said. "I've been working just as hard as you. It should not be a surprise that they don't look like the hands of a noble person."

"Emma," he said, carefully choosing his words. "You don't surprise me with your hard work. You've shown many times that you are loathe to be pampered and sheltered. I look at your hands because they appear to hurt you. As I have said, I don't wish to cause you pain."

She turned her palms up toward the sky. "My governess would have been angry to see them like this," she said. "My mother would have pretended to have been too." She blew a hint of cool air over them to soothe them. "I'm sort of proud of them."

"Why is that?"

"You don't get these blisters from doing needle work or practicing music," she said. "I also would love to see what the ladies and gentlemen of court would have thought should I have arrived gloveless at a royal ball. They would have been shocked." There was a smirk on her face that showed the inordinate amount of pleasure she took in the thought.

"I think you enjoy surprising people and even shocking them a bit," he challenged. "It thrills you?"

"With some people," she admitted, "but with others it is different. I never liked surprising my parents. I felt that they should know me better. They should not be shocked by their daughter."

He saw a bit of hurt in her revelation. "They loved you dearly," he said with sincerity. "I have gone on many a journey with the navy and never have parents so wanted their daughter protected that they put her in the care of the royal navy. Even in that brief time they spent aboard the ship, their love for you was evident."

She looked a bit embarrassed by his assessment. "I don't know," she admitted almost shyly. "I know they loved me, but sometimes I don't think they knew me as much as I would have liked."

He nodded, thinking about his brother. "What would you have liked them to know?"

She did not answer, instead looking at her hands with a more critical eye. He said nothing as he walked the few steps toward their shelter and retrieved the material that she had torn from her underskirt to use when he had been feverish. Dipping two in the fresh water and adding a bit of the plant leaves she had found, he brought them back and tied them on her hands. "It will help to soothe them," he explained. "While they are the marks of a hard worker, they must be painful. We can't lose momentum now though."

She smiled back at him. "Your hands don't look at worn," she noted.

"They are used to it," he said with a shrug.

She felt her eyes growing heavy, the familiar tugs of sleep creeping closer. "You promised you would tell me what you knew about the stars," she said, her voice just as heavy. "Back on the ship. You said you didn't know the stories my father had told me but that you would teach me what you did know."

He closed his eyes, picturing himself holding her as her face turned upward. "Perhaps later," he said, his own voice heavy. "We are both too tired for much of a lesson."

"Just one," she implored.

He chuckled as he scooted next to her, their shoulders brushing. "Let's see," he said thoughtfully. Carefully he painted the picture for her, the words his brother had used to teach him slipping out as if they were his own.

***AAA***

Emma might not have wanted to surprise the people who loved her, but sometimes her actions were just that. One morning just before the shelter was complete, she produced a small pointed dagger from beneath her skirt, shrugging off his obvious alarm that she was now brandishing a weapon. "My mother taught me to never be unarmed," she explained, passing the instrument to him. "I know that we have been using yours to catch fish on the end of that pole. I thought there might be a more hygienic use for yours."

"Such as?" he asked, turning over the silver dagger in his hands. It was warm from her close quarters and that somehow made it seem all the more precious.

"You could shave," she said, flushing a bit at the comment. "Your whiskers have grown so much that you are looking as an old man. I don't think it suits you."

"And you would prefer that I have a softer face for you to gaze upon?" His voice was teasing, but his eyes studied hers intently. She became even rosier.

"Perhaps it is as I said," she tried to counter. "I don't think it suits you. A full beard is for a man with experiences and tales that span decades. You have not earned that yet."

He chuckled. "I will do as the lady asks," he agreed. "Though I think that being marooned does count toward that experience you speak about."

As a princess she had no work dresses in her luggage when she had arrived on the Jewel of the Realm, something she regretted now. That night he'd come to her and told her to pack in a hurry, he'd told her that she could not carry any of the heavy trunks that would weigh down the small boat they were using. So she'd carried two packs with her, tying off a blanket to use as one and a light blue dress as the other. Most of her dresses were way too ornate, she had thought correctly. Most had trains or bustles that would have been worthless or even dangerous in these circumstances. The blue was not much better, as it was thinner than her red one and covered with a lacey overlay that was always getting caught on brambles and brush. No matter how much she scrubbed on their laundry trips, she had yet to fully clean it.

She thought of all the things she missed and remarkably few were things of her life in the palace. The irony that she had packed her needlework had ceaselessly entertained her, as she and Killian had found so many uses for the sharp needles and delicate threads. It was that use that was on her mind as her hand ran along the sail with the memory of one of the things she missed the most.

She listened for the sound of him returning, knowing that he was not far away and probably would give her no time to herself. She was used to that though, as she'd rarely been left alone by the doting staff at her parents' palace. She had never felt so angry at them though. He had made her so cross that evening that she still replayed the words. To her regret she hadn't been able to hold her tongue, and she hated that feeling. Very rarely did she loose her temper and resort to the childishness she'd displayed. She was furious and, worse, embarrassed. But she refused to apologize for what she'd said to Killian Jones. They might not have been the most mature things to say, but she had been perfectly honest when she spit them out. She didn't know how much longer she'd be able to stomach his company, though in these circumstances there was little choice. What could she do? Ask him to build a second shelter so they might live separately.

Gathering herself together, she ventured on the western fork of the path and followed it through a short bit of the wood to a marshy area that contained just what she wanted. Tall grasses grew there and by weaving them together, she was sure she could start making a thatch roof. She told herself that she would only gather an arm load of them so that Killian would not worry where she had gotten off to that morning.

The grass proved easy to gather and much of it was already dried by the sun. Excitedly, she gathered at least three arm loads before his footsteps were evident on the path. She flinched, knowing that he would not be happy with her for having wandered, as he called it. She used a piece of vine to tie off another bundle and waited for his inevitable tirade.

"Emma!" he called out.

She swallowed and peered back at him. "I'm right here, Killian," she answered. "I was…"

"What were you thinking?" he thundered as he stalked to her, almost tripping in the process. "You could have been hurt or worse and I would have never…"

"It's a small island. You said so yourself." Her arms were folded in front of her, the material catching on her buttons in such an unladylike stance. Chin jutted out, she watched him calm from his panic a bit and then flare back up again.

"Emma," he breathed out, sounding both angry and defeated. "This is preposterous. We have to keep tabs on one another for the sake of safety. There are too many unknown dangers and you…"

"Our shelter will need its own roof," she told Killian as calmly as she could. "I think I remember how to make a thatch roof so we could free up this sail material."

"Your knowledge is boundless," he muttered, the closest to a compliment he'd offered in a while, at least verbally. "But could it not have waited until I returned. You were gone when I got back to the camp. I didn't know if something horrible had befallen you or if I had lost you somehow."

She smiled somewhat apologetically, but was unable to vocalize the words to tell him she was sorry to have worried him. She was actually quite proud of the idea that she'd had and the work she'd already accomplished. She wanted to hear that he was happy with it too. "Killian," she said, realizing that he did look more like the Killian she remembered after shaving. "I'm glad to see that you did not hurt yourself in the process of shaving." It was hardly a compliment, but she could not bring herself to say much in that way.

He could not let that moment go though. "You insisted upon this for me," he reminded her. "I think you could at least say…"

She laughed, it was a way to push the thoughts in her head aside. He was a handsome man, one that any woman would find appealing, she thought. Then she chastised herself internally for the fact that she had, in her efforts to control one semblance of her life, made him do something to improve upon his looks. She was just as daft as she accused him of being. "You look better," she said, the three words choking her.

"Better?"

"Don't press the issue, Killian," she said, wishing there was some place she could flounce off to huffily. But she'd already brought their water supply in for the day. She'd already cleaned up after their breakfast. There was no place for her to retreat.

He chuckled at her discomfort or perhaps it was his own discomfort that made him chuckle. Turning the blade toward him, he held the dagger out to her. "Thank you for the loan of it," he said. "I feel less like an old man."

She nodded, dropping it next to the bundles. "I think I prefer you this way," she admitted, the words tasting strangely sour on her lips. "I only mean that you can hide behind a beard and I prefer you more…"

"Exposed…"

"That's not what you should say to me," she cautioned him.

"I thought we were moving past the whole formality thing. You certainly have said more familiar things to me in the past."

"And you have chastised me for doing so," she said. "This isn't about me being of a higher station than you. It is about the fact that I'm supposed to be a married woman at this point."

His head turned a bit to the side, almost as if he'd felt a slap across his freshly shaven face. He did not ask her to, but she chose to clarify for him.

"You were delivering me to another kingdom. We would have reached it already and my wedding was already scheduled to have taken place."

He rubbed his jaw, still feeling the sting. "You'd be a man's wife," he said more to himself than to her.

"Yes," she said. "My parents planning did not work. For I am here and not protected by some other kingdom or ruling at the side of my new husband." Her gaze dropped. "I have yet again disappointed them."

"It is not your fault that we are here," he said. "I am the one who landed us here. I am the one who did not see the map changing."

"It matters not," she said, not meeting his eyes. "I have not lived up to their expectations. I had many opportunities before the curse forced their hand. I could have already been married and produced an heir to the throne, but I chose not to because I kept thinking there was something more than what they presented to me."

The urge to hold her and comfort her had never been greater than at that moment, he thought. He resisted it the best he could, trying to remind himself of the fear he'd felt when she was missing. "One cannot see it as a sin to want the best in life," he said. "Not even a princess."

"You don't understand," she said. "You don't know what it is like to have all of a kingdom concerned with your marital status. They don't care about my heart. They only cared that I wasn't married and that I wasn't doing my duty to my family and my kingdom."

"Perhaps not," he said. "Perhaps I cannot understand that."

Emma saw a rigidly controlled man, his jaw clenched tight and his gaze assessing. In that moment she admitted to herself that he was possibly the most intensely handsome man she'd ever met.

Then he reached out, grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her against him. Her beautiful eyes went wide, her lips slightly parted in surprise. She waited for him to do something, to choke her, to kiss her, to make some move that would put an end to it. He waited too, his eyes searching her for a clue as to what she might want from him.

"I've needed to do this," she ground out, then she slammed his mouth against his. She had not expected him to return it, but after the momentary shock, he was returning her kiss to her in a raw and unchecked passion that she did not expect.

He ravaged her mouth, taking everything she didn't know she could give. His tongue plunged between her lips, wrapping savagely around her own. Emma felt herself melt quickly and surely against him, her arms curved around his neck of their own volition. She was staggered by the jolts of need that crashed through her system, setting her on fire with the shock. She moved restlessly against him, attacking him back with her own sudden wantonness.

He heard himself groan, felt her delectable body dissolve into his as their lips met, their tongues entangling again and again. He was suddenly aware of the hardening of his own body, the surge of need like quicksilver in his blood. Killian jerked her even closer, his hands moving quickly down toward the buttons of her dress. He had to touch her, had to taste the rest of her skin. He was crazy with the necessity to have her naked, pressed bare skin to bare skin with him.

The jarring sound of a bird nearby interrupted them, both jumping apart. Emma swallowed the dense lump in her throat, her mind blank while her body hummed. She'd never experienced anything like that, and especially not a kiss. Most of the men in her life who had pursued her were gentle in their kisses, daintily touching their lips to her hands or to her cheek. The few who had fused their mouths to hers had been chaste at best.

Killian stared at the woman in front of him, saw her breathing was as heavy as his own. He was inordinately pleased by that fact. He ran his hand threw his hair, knowing he wouldn't recover any time soon.

They both locked eyes, their gazes blazing with unrequited need.

_**I know you have thoughts on this chapter. Share them with me.** _


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: You guys have no idea how much I'm enjoying reading your feedback. This chapter should answer some of your questions about Emma's magic (yes, she has it) and what they are each thinking. While the events leading Killian to be a pirate have not played out in this story, that rebellion and distrust is certainly under the surface. So while we won't get full on Captain Hook, I hope I am able to portray why he would be torn between being the good lieutenant that his brother wants him to be and the man who fights for what he wants. Happy Once Day!** _

_**I may try to get another chapter out today, but I'm not sure if I will have the time. In addition to a viewing party, I have an opportunity to try my hand at a writing contest for a major television production company. It makes me a little nervous to try, but it is something I need to do.** _

_Chapter 11_

"What are you doing?" he asked, the voice almost accusatory as he watched her leaning over the bag of oats that he had squirreled away during their hasty retreat.

"Just looking at the levels," she said, tying the cloth bag back off and straightening herself up to standing. He was not going to believe that. For one it was not true. And for another thing her eyes had been closed. Who inspected anything with eyes shut?

He opened his mouth and then closed it, his own teeth running across the bottom lip. She was grateful that he said nothing, but she also wondered what he was thinking. "I should check the traps," he said. It was a daily ritual, one that he insisted would someday be fruitful. At night he now tied and twisted vines that they had found in some of the trees into nets. Using those and holes he dug into the ground and then covered over with leaves and twigs, he was always telling Emma of some big game animal that he would catch and feed them from one of these days. So far there had been no luck.

Magic comes at a price. Those words had been spoken to her for the first time at a party celebrating her sixth birthday. A fairy, dressed all in blue, had been in attendance to enchant some of the toys as entertainment for the event. She had taken one look at Emma and declared that the only daughter of Prince Charming and Snow White was, in fact, as host for magical properties.

"She'll be a great sorceress someday," the Blue Fairy had declared, her eyes sparkling with delight. "She must be trained."

Her parents were reluctant, as every person they knew who had trained in magic had become power hungry and morally corrupt. Emma had even heard her mother beg the Blue Fairy to take the gift away from their daughter, saying that it was too high of a burden.

"It is engrained in her as surely as eye color or hair texture," the woman had said. "To take magic away from her would be a great travesty. She would lose her very soul."

Emma never told her mother of hearing that conversation, swearing to herself that she would never use the gift for any reason at all. She'd rather be ordinary, she thought to herself. She did not want people to respect or fear her because she somehow was bestowed with powers outweighing others. As she grew, so did her powers, becoming harder to hide.

Her parents' advisors had said that magic was a very rare gift, one that she should only use for good. Their worries were evident, as her mother's own step-mother had broken the boundaries of magic and morality on countless occasions. Emma had been reluctant to even admit to her family when things began to happen. There was the day that a young boy – a prince from a neighboring kingdom – had stolen her toy from her and teasingly played with it right in front of her. She had wished so hard that the toy might be in her hands again that it floated out of his and landed in hers without cause. He'd run screaming from the room. She'd denied everything.

It wasn't something you talked about, her Aunt Red said. A dear friend of her mother's, the woman held secrets tightly and regretted none of them. She was not actually Emma's aunt, but had taken the moniker when Emma was young and never given it up. "Don't let people see that you are different," Red had told her one evening just as the sun was setting. "People are afraid of anyone who is different."

So Emma never spoke of her abilities and tried to pass off the weird occurrences as something she was surprised to notice as well. Even with Killian she had done this, knowing that it was easier to hide it than explain it.

"He's going to figure it out when we never run out of food," she said quietly to herself. "He's not a complete dolt."

***AAA***

She'd never been so grateful for something to do as she was when she began to weave together the base for the thatch roof. Her hands were busy and her eyes needed to focus lest she make some horrendous error. When he spoke to her, she told him that she had to count the number of loops and that his conversation was distracting. Maybe he did not know the process, but there was no counting involved at all.

Her neck and back ached from leaning over the materials, the weight of her hair heavy as she regretted not having tied it back. However, the one clip she had with her from the ship was sitting next to Killian. There was no way that she intended to look in his direction, let alone let her hand slip next to his hip to pick something up when she might touch him.

She'd kissed him first, which in retrospect she was not exactly proud of herself for doing. She'd thought about it, wondering what it would be like. The intent had been to press a chaste kiss to his lips to stop those thoughts from roaming around in her head. She wanted to know what he tasted like and what he felt like, but he had deepened it. She blamed him, at least that is what she told herself. Could she really blame him when her own mouth had opened voluntarily? Was it his fault that her fingers lost themselves in his hair and on his back? Was his the voice in her head saying it wanted more? Was he the one who'd clung to him afterward because she no longer trusted her legs to hold her? So maybe it wasn't all his fault.

She set aside the next batch and took her nimble fingers to work on her neck muscles, feeling the strain of leaning forward for what felt like hours. Her eyes were watering under the pressure of focusing so hard on the thatch roof pieces and not looking up no matter what might distract her.

"Some water?" he asked, the two words the first ones that had passed between them since she had not so politely told him not to distract her eight batches ago. His water bag dangled in front of her face and she knew internally that it was a trap to take it from him. She'd have water, but she'd also have to look at him and thank him. That would mean seeing his lips and remembering how they felt on hers. If she saw his lips then she would know if he was smiling at her. If she knew that…No water was worth that.

"No thank you," she muttered, leaning down and feeling her muscles tear as she picked up another bundle of dry grass and reeds. "I want to get this…"

He knelt down to her level, his knees digging into the sandy earth. "Emma," he said as if asking permission to address her. "I had hoped that maybe you would speak to me before you began again."

"We have to get this roof together," she protested. "It's more important than…"

He rolled himself back onto his feet. "Since you are busy with that, I'll see about catching some fish for our next meal," he said, resigning much quicker than she thought he would. "I would like to talk though, Emma. Just so you know that."

She let herself lift her head as he walked away, noticing that he had left the water bag next to her, as well as her hair clip. Bastard, she thought.

***AAA***

He caught fish. She hated fish, but that was always their menu. He'd found very few signs of wild game that they could actually manage to catch and fish were in abundance. She remembered being in the kitchens, playing with some of the cooks' children when the fishermen would bring items for inspection. The whole room would reek of the smell as various flounders and trout were spread out on display and the cooks discussed endlessly the quality and yield on each and every one. She hated fish days.

In the two letters that she had received from her betrothed, he had introduced himself and told of his kingdom in excruciating detail. She learned that it had been 12 years since a pirate attack and that the land received an inordinate amount of rain and snow. She knew that he liked to raise hounds, ride expensive horses and owned two homes in addition to the palace. She also knew that he had not done any time in the military as was customary of most princes – though usually just a post that kept them in the talk of the villages and out of harm's way. Instead, he'd spent it fishing in some of the great seas of the northern part of the world. He loved it and spent many a day talking about his adventures and catches. She could hardly wait.

She always made the excuse to go for water or search out berries and other edible foliage when he would go to clean the fish. The stench turned her stomach to the point that she was afraid she would faint or at the very least lose her lunch. He said nothing of it, but she never missed the bemused expression on his face when she made a hasty exit.

"I think we could use some greens with our catch of the day," she muttered when he returned to show off his catch. He always seemed to catch more than her and she seriously wondered if he had some magical power that made him able to lure them in with the sound of his voice.

He did not notice that she had slipped the rolled map under the sleeve of her dress. Trying not to walk with her arm so obviously and unnaturally straight, she prayed that his attention remain on the fish. Sometimes prayers were answered, she realized when he found a particularly difficult bone to remove.

"Let's take a look," she said to no one in particular just inside the thickest area of the wooded path. Killian had detailed for her how the map had looked before and she had seen the new version at least three times. He no longer studied it, as it seemed to him a useless and inoperable solution. She was not as easy to give up though.

Unrolling the map she could see his markings and notes, the measurements, lines and circles. Every notation was in perfect order and neatly recorded. She saw the vast blankness of the water and the dark mark that was supposed to indicate the island where they now resided. His bold black ink circle still sat in perfect proportion around what was supposed to have been their temporary respite.

Her fists held so tightly to the map that she truly feared she might tear the delicate paper. There was magic within it. She could feel that coursing through her, screaming its presence that hid from most people including Killian. The familiar pangs of its shocks were tingling in her fingers and she wondered if she might have the ability after all.

What would be the price?

She tried to remember what she could of people using magic. The Blue Fairy had done so easily, focusing on things like fairy dust and a wand. Her step-grandmother had never used those items and seemed infinitely more powerful. A look would come over her, a concentrated and focus look, narrowed eyes and a smirk as fire flew from her finger tips or a wave of smoke would move her from one place to another. Her hands could make objects appear and disappear by simply mentioning them.

Emma mimicked that wave of the hand, thinking about how she wanted a way off the island. Nothing on the map changed. Frowning, she tried again and felt nothing of the familiar jolts that were her own magic working.

She knew it was rare that she actually asked for those jolts, rarer still that she tried to control it. She could do minor things, add to the bags of food, fix a small issue, but the larger tasks were harder. She'd never healed anyone. She's never moved herself from one location to another, never stopped an enemy, and never thrown her energy in another form. Perhaps it was fear, she told herself. Perhaps it was the feeling that she might be judged for her actions and more than that hated for them.

"I just want to be ordinary," she said, rolling the map back and sliding it again into her sleeve as her hands filled with the results of what she had said she was searching to find.

***AAA***

Their new shelter was not as intimate and the small one they had shared, at least that was what Killian told himself as he lay there next to her and looked upward at the half finished roof. She was not asleep either, though she would probably deny that later if asked. She was doing her best impression of a woman asleep with her body curled up, her back to him and her face tucked down like a baby bird.

Her kissing him next to the marshy area had been surprising to say the least, a moment that he had imagined but never hoped would happen. She had seemed to want to do it and then had frozen with either inexperience or anxiety over the actual act. It was not regret. He knew it wasn't. If she had regretted her move then she would have backed away and excused it. No, Emma did not regret it, he told himself. Neither did he.

When he'd first set foot on a ship as a member of the royal navy, the commanding officer had given he and the others a fearsome and extended lecture on the merits of self-control. They had stood there for the larger part of an hour with their bodies ramrod straight and their eyes never wavering. The voice echoed in his head of the merits of such a concept, controlling one's self not for reward but for the illusion of good form. That's all it was really, he knew. Good form was the illusion that he was in control of himself and would act in accordance with that.

Vices like women and alcohol threatened that illusion so he had avoided them, not wanting to take away the reputation he had for his own self-control. Of course he had dabbled into each, spent the night laying with women who wanted nothing more by morning's light than a coin or two for their troubles. His brother had said it made him a better man, one who was not fogged over by lust and desire. Maybe his brother had a point, he thought as he let himself remember Emma's body against his and the way the blood in his body had run so hot and fast that he feared for the explosion that was bound to happen. If he'd bedded her then, he wondered, would he still be so filled with lustful thoughts that he could not think of anything else.

He closed his eyes, the moonless night offering no way to see anyway. If she could pretend to sleep then so could he, his breathing being the only tell-tale sign of the lie.

***AAA***

At some point in the night she must have found sleep because when he awoke, she was clearly slumbering rather than faking the state. He'd slid out from under the blanket they shared with a stealthy silence reserved for regretful lovers and carried his boots outside to put them back on. They had created a system by this point, a way of telling each other things without having to speak the words. Taking a stick he drew his message in the sand and an arrow indicating which path he had taken.

It was turning into late fall and he knew that his chances at catching any animals would fall off soon, most of them beginning to hibernate. However, if he caught them now they would be fat with the preparations for their long winter's nap. Saying a silent prayer, he headed out to check his traps and tried not to feel the role of a useless naval lieutenant living on land.

There was nothing in the first few, the familiar sight of their undisturbed nature stinging his sensibilities. It was a macho thing to want to bring her food and see the happiness in her eyes mirroring the pride in his. He wanted her to sigh with contentedness as she feasted on something other than fish and berries.

Maybe it was the thoughts of her sinking her teeth into something he had provided that distracted him, that made him preoccupied with the idea of kissing that mouth again. Whatever it was, Killian did not hear the sound behind him, the sight of the wild boar not coming into focus until it was only a few scant feet away from him.

Other than the dagger, he'd brought nothing with him to defend himself. Having seen no actual animals, only their tracks offering clues to their existence, he had grown sloppy in his plans. So this black beast with its sharp teeth now stood regarding him in a way that he might watch an enemy ship. Its tongue slid out as if imagining the taste of him.

He could not outrun it, history and memory served to tell him that. While plump and short legged, the animals were doggedly determined and faster than one would think. The nearby trees offered no low branches for his escape. His eyes closed in prayer again, hoping that some other manner of beast would distract this boar from him.

There was a part of him that hoped the boar would leave no remnants of him, as he did not want Emma to find such a sight. Better that she wonder than be greeted with the disturbing vision of his half eaten corpse. The picture of her searching for him was his one thought when he heard her voice.

"Killian!"

"Emma, run," he managed to say, hoping that the boar did not see her before it made its move toward him. "Boar!"

She froze, her blonde hair messily tousled by what he assumed to be her run along the path to find him. How had she known that he was in trouble? Had she always followed him? Was this something new?

He saw the boar's teeth flash in hungry fury and the animal's head duck in a motion of preparation. And then he was blinded by a light, a blaze of white that shot out from where Emma stood, warm and protective against the cool morning air and fantastic in its splendor. He expected that to be the last, the welcoming embrace of God to let him die without the feeling of the boar's jaws clamping down on him.

Opening his eyes he did not see the heaven of his mother's teachings. Instead he saw a breathless and shaking Emma on the path and no sign of the boar.

"What did you do, Emma?" he asked, his voice trembling as much as she was standing on the path. "Emma?"

"I…" she stared at him, unblinking and clearly shaken by the events that transpired as much as he was. "I didn't…"

"We should get out of here," he demanded when she was unable to answer him. Instinctively, he reached for her, his larger hand gripping around her wrist and pulling her into his side. "You can explain it to me when we get back."


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N: I survived the first episode after the hiatus and didn't even have to ride a giant pickle to do it (that just sounds dirty). Here is a nice little chapter where we will have Killian trying to come to terms with his fear over Emma's magic but his growing feelings toward her.** _

"What do you want to know?" she asked him, wanting to somehow break the bonds of the silence that had settled over them. "What would make it easier to take?"

He had not expected her to offer to answer anything, especially without prodding. So when she stopped a few feet away from their camp, turning to face him with what he saw as her most stubborn and determined of expressions, he felt a little more respect for the royal woman who had proven herself in his estimation. She never demanded things of him, never made requests that would make her life easier. He was impressed by that, in awe of her fortitude and her humbleness.

"I don't know what happened back there," he admitted honestly. "That light…where did it come from?"

She pulled her hand away from his, a coolness taking hold around his digits. "I don't…"

"Emma," he said softly. "Be honest with me. Please."

She looked up at the blue eyes that seemed to read her, the muddle of his emotions swirling there without tether. "Magic," she said, drawling out the syllables of a word she felt burn her tongue. "I was born with it."

His eyes shot open with the revelation, a slideshow of memories appearing in his brain. The bags of oats and flour never seeming to reduce. The quick way she foraged. The easy way she mended things when it would take a person that long to simply thread the needle. The way her hands would seemingly heal overnight. "You're a witch?"

"No," she stammered quickly. "I'm not a witch. I was born with magic because of my parents love. True love. It isn't really precedented within my family. There is my step-grandmother, but she studied it as her mother did. She was not born with it."

"Why have you not used it to rescue us?" he asked, looking toward where the path ended back at the shore.

"I have tried," she said softly. "I never trained in it, Killian. I don't know that I can even explain it or control it. It just happens sometimes. I can do simple things, but the bigger things are harder. I don't know how to make it work at my command."

"And back there with the boar?"

She looked at her own hands, seeming not to recognize them as they trembled between them. "I was panicked," she said. "Something told me that you were in trouble and the next thing I knew…I was standing there and you were about to be killed. I couldn't…I had to do something and all I could think was that I wanted that animal dead so that it would not hurt you."

He scoffed, his hand scratching the spot where his hair ended on his neck. "You just thought it dead and it happened?"

"I thought about how much I wanted it dead so it would not hurt you and then the light flashed and it was gone," she rambled. "I didn't try for it. I didn't ask it to happen." There were tears in her eyes as she thought about that toy the prince had stolen from her and how she had ripped it back from him not by strength but simply by wishing. He'd been so scared of her, refusing to even look at her until his parents took him home. Now Killian's eyes looked the same.

"To remove such a beast you must be very powerful," he said. She was not sure if that was meant to be a compliment to her. "More so than your demeanor would indicate. Quite deceptive." There it was, she thought. He was angry that she had power. More than that, he was angry that she had hidden it.

"I had no intention of deceiving you."

The white of his uniform shirt and pants had long been marred by the work on the island, no longer pure and crisp as they had been in the gleaming light aboard the ship. Still he stood there as if expecting to be inspected, no muscles relaxed and always ready for scrutiny. "Yet you did."

She took a deep breath. "If it was something that could have helped us, I would have shared it with you," she said. "But it isn't. I'm just as likely to set the whole forest afire as I am to transport us some place. It is not something in my control." She looked again at her hands. "I can't even predict when and where my abilities will show themselves sometimes."

"Back there," he said gruffly, flinging his hand in the direction of where she had saved him. "Back there, something in you wanted to rescue me? Why?"

Her long lashes fluttered and cast a shadow on her cheeks. "I don't know," she answered with a broken tone of fear. "I don't think I can explain."

He took a step toward her, closing the distance a bit, giving her a chance to run from him. She didn't. "Back at the marsh, you had gathered only three bundles when I arrived. Then you kissed me and there were dozens."

"Killian, please," she begged. "I don't know. I cannot explain it."

"Tell me," he said, a bit more demanding. "Tell me what is happening."

"I don't know," she repeated, her voice barely registering in the air. "That kiss shouldn't have happened, and it won't again," she told him, holding her ground.

It was challenge and he was more than ready to take her up on it. He moved toward her slowly, confidence instead of confusion written all over his handsome face. She didn't move, just brought her chin up a notch and stared at him with pleading for understanding. He gave her a smile, feeling his body tighten at her small act of defiance.

When he reached her, he stood quietly for a moment, in his mind giving her a precious moment to walk away. Emma couldn't move; her feet had become rooted to the floor, her heart beat a mad tattoo in her chest. She kept her cool façade pulled over her face, not daring to show any of the unrestrained emotions pulsing in her body.

Killian lowered his head slowly, letting his hands slide up her arms to her neck, then trailed his fingertips back down her sides to her waist and the soft top of her billowing skirt. He watched her eyes begin to glaze, her breathing speeding up as her flesh grew goose bumps. Carefully, gently, he laid his mouth on hers, caressing her lips softly.

Emma stopped breathing, her brain melting down like ice in July. She had no idea she could feel like this or that she was capable of the languorous need that climbed up her stomach and into her blood. When his hand snaked up her arm she barely kept the gasp inside. She thought she might fall at his feet when his hand made its way to her hip, splaying out and resting there while he kept her pinned with his bright blue eyes. Then his lips were on hers, grazing them, nipping them, then, finally, he rested his mouth against hers, massaging the tender flesh with deftness.

He couldn't get enough of her; she was like a strong vintage wine, the undertones of her taste lingering as delved in for another sip. He gently pulled her bottom lip between his teeth, sensually scraping it, then laving the nip away with his tongue. Emma responded in kind, teasing his mouth with soft butterfly whispers of her tongue.

Her body went limp, leaning into him for support. This kiss was going farther to seduce her than the one they'd shared before; he was wrapping her in a tender tempest and she gladly lost herself in it. Then, slowly, gently, he ended the kiss the way he had begun it. She stood silently for a moment while her eyelids fluttered open.

"Won't happen again, love?" he asked in a husky voice.

The world quickly righted itself when she heard his question.

"Don't flatter yourself," she said, turning to leave him there on the path. "I didn't find your kiss all that stimulating."

He watched her leave, her curvy hips swinging as she strode from him.

Killian gave a quick and quiet laugh, then said under his breath, "Liar."

***AAA***

He was only a few steps behind her when he reached the camp site. So when he saw the sight there over the fire, he was unsure how that had managed to happen. Over the roaring fire that had been extinguished and cooling when he left that morning was the boar that had threatened him. It's body was speared and spinning with the scent of cooked meat in the air.

"I didn't…" she said, holding her hands out as though someone or something might attack her at any moment. "I couldn't…"

He could see the panic in her eyes, the fear that he was going to somehow judge or harm her for this ability. Overpowering even his libido was the sense that he had to do something to stop her from fearing him. "Emma," he said softly, approaching her as a man would a wounded animal. She could strike back at any moment. "Emma, darling, look at me."

She kept staring at the fire, her tears now released and her body racked with her sobs of terror and defeat. "Make it stop," she cried out. "Make it stop."

There were two kinds of people in the world that he knew. Those that had magic and those that feared it. He obviously fell into the latter of the two categories, having seen his own father's life deteriorate to a debauchery of alcohol and crime after his mother's illness took hold. His father, who had never been confused for a righteous man, had sought out the help of a local healer. The woman had been known to have a powerful brand of magic that could solve any problem or any ailment. Using the last of their money, Killian's father had paid the woman who then did nothing to stop the onslaught of the disease. Killian had seen the woman days after his father's disappearance and just before his mother's death. She had been drinking ale at the local tavern and spending those gold coins with abandon.

He did not trust magic, and trusted its bearers even less.

But staring at Emma with her broken soul on display as she tried to make sense of her own power was something that his heart wished would go away. The idea of anyone having to see the horrors inside he knew she had seen, the thought that she had had to go through this pain and have done it with little to no help, bothered him more than he cared to admit. She was the stubborn one, his mind reasoned, she was the one who didn't let anyone inside her closed circle. But then, how could she possibly share this with anyone else, he wondered quietly. After all, he had called her a witch. Imagine what others who hated her called her. Unless you could crawl into her mind you couldn't even have an inkling of what she obviously went through. He stared at her for a moment before finally making up his mind.

He reached for her, his arms trying to circle around her flailing. However, he came up empty in his efforts. "Emma, look at me," he commanded softly. "This isn't a wicked development. It's quite marvelous actually. I love the taste of boar. At least it's not fish."

Her breathing was stuttered and her face grew warm with the realization that he was attempting to make her comfortable. A man who clearly had just asked if she was some sort of witch was comforting her. She smiled slightly. "I'm glad if my magic is to feed us a hot meal that it did not come from the sea," she said. "I'm getting a bit tired of fish."

He still looked a bit shaken, whether from the incident with the boar or the realization of her magic. "Then maybe your magic is spurred on by your wishes," he said. "Have you not wished to escape here and start your new life?"

She felt her body tighten. "I did," she said. "I have looked upon your map and wished for it show us the way. It has been to no avail."

He looked at the fire and smiled. "Then perhaps we should start a bit smaller with your wishing," he said. "Maybe a dessert? Or a bottle of wine?"

She stalked away from him, going to check their supplies and other things for the day. He called out to her not to go too far, but she didn't answer him.

He had things to do too, things that would take him away from their camp and their new shelter. He needed to do those things, but for now he just sank into the dark sand and wondered just what other secrets were inside her head.

***AAA***

"There are few things as succulent and wondrous as the first bite of a meal," Killian observed as Emma closed her eyes with each bite. "Each bite is wonderful, but none are as brilliant as that first one."

She opened her eyes slowly, taking in his careful regard for her and the fear that still sat just under the surface. "That's elaborate for wild boar and a few mushrooms," she commented. "Is it always that way with you? The first is better than any of the rest?"

He smiled at her, a little weaker than he intended. "Emma," he said carefully, "I think we should try to determine why your magic seems to be blocking your attempts for us to escape."

"I told you that I don't know how to control it," she said. "It frightens me to have that lack of control."

"As it should," he agreed, taking another bite of the food that both admitted was probably among the best they'd had since landing there. "But you seem to be able to use it in other ways. You fill our rations each day. I am a fool that I didn't notice it."

She swallowed, her gaze meeting his. "I don't argue your foolishness, Killian," she contended. "But I resent that you think I am attempting to make you a fool."

He pressed his lips together tightly, not knowing how to address it with her. They had now kissed twice and each time resulted in some magical occurrence. The batches for the thatch roof had appeared in abundance with their first kiss. This meal had appeared after their second. "Is your magic only attached to a wish?" he asked, broaching the subject differently than the way he had planned. "Or is there some other trigger?"

Her finger dabbed at the corners of her mouth, having no napkin to perform the task. "I don't know what you mean?"

He sighed, giving her a quick grin that turned into a furrowed brow of concentration. "I meant more emotional of a trigger. Does it occur when you are angry, sad, or happy?"

She shrugged her shoulders, sipping a bit of water. "I suppose I have had it happen when I was angry or jealous," she said, telling him of the young prince and the toy. "Or when I was happy. When I turned 21 my father threw me a grand ball. My mother gave me a gown that was just like I had always wanted. I was so excited to wear it that I didn't wait for my ladies in waiting to help me and tried to pull it on myself. I ripped the fabric horribly. I had so looked forward to wearing that dress that I sat there and held it close to my chest and pictured myself dancing in it. When I opened my eyes it was whole again."

He could picture her in such a gown, her hair piled on top of her head and the skirts of the gown swishing in time with the music. Her delicate hands holding his and resting on his arm as he twirled her in front of…His head hung at the thought. He would have never been allowed the privilege. He'd never have been in her favor or her graces long enough to do anything other than bow as she passed.

"Emma," he said, his feet digging into the sand unconsciously. "What did you feel when we kissed?"

She seemed startled by his question, her hand fluttered about her neck and her face grew impossibly pale. "I don't know what you mean," she repeated. "I…"

He cleared his throat, feeling very uneasy at asking her this. One should not have to pry such information out of anyone, especially a princess. However, here he sat asking her to divulge the inner thoughts of her mind to him as if he had the right to know. "You must have had some feeling or thoughts," he said, dismissing his own thoughts with a slight shake of his head. "What crossed your mind that your magic would react?"

"You assume that it meant something," she said condescendingly, then her voice broke with sadness. Her expression crumpled and she mouthed an apology at the ground before she lifted her head higher. "That's not fair of me. I thought about you, Killian. I thought about how I wanted to make things better for you here because I'm the reason you're stuck here. If I wasn't so weak that my parents had to send me away, you would be on some hero's journey and not playing deliverer of a princess to a future husband who hates all things and beings magical."

His body hummed that her thoughts had been of him, but he pushed that aside to consider her and the issue of harnessing that magic to rescue them from the island. "I'm flattered," he said, his smile revealing that he was teasing her and trying to illicit a smile from her as well. "But I want you to know something. My brother may have originally required me to look after you, but he relieved me of that duty in order to protect my reputation. I am the one who asked for it back. I am not here out of obligation, Emma. I'm here because I want you to have the life you were born to have."

She pushed away the remnants of her dinner, making a show that she was done with it. "Even if that means I'm to become a man's wife – a man who banished all magical persons from his kingdom because he feels they are inherently evil?"

"Such a man does not deserve you," he said, wincing at the words that seemed so possessive and soothing at the same time. She did not want to hear that from him, especially when he was a naval lieutenant talking about a prince. "But that's beside the point at this juncture. What matters is that we figure out a way to get off this island. If your magic is a key to that, I say we use it. You can make the decision afterward about where you want to go and what we can do about this fiancé of yours."

She nodded. "My parents wanted me to rule with him, to protect whatever is left of the kingdom…"

"Your parents must not have known that the idea of marrying him would cause you any pain," he said. "I may have only met them briefly, but I know that they would never want to cause you a moment's distress."

_**I hope it doesn't come off as too bipolar, but I wanted him to support her but also be a little worried about it because who wouldn't be about something like that. He also may sound a bit harsh, but I think that would be a natural reaction to learning she had this power but never told him.** _


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Thank you all again for your reviews, thoughts, and questions. For those missing Liam, we’re about to get back to him. But there is very little you can write about a guy in a coma in Storybrooke when the main action is taking place in another realm.  
This chapter was one I had a specific idea about and then it turned out to be nothing like I planned. It’s also a little longer than most of them. Hope you enjoy.  
Emma woke up before Killian, her eyes unwilling to look at him for more than a second just in case there was judgment staring back at her. Everyone who learned of her magic judged her. It was human nature, she supposed, and created in her a paranoid doubt of anyone’s true intentions. If someone looked at her the wrong way, she assumed they knew of her abilities. If the people said the wrong thing, she turned it inward and cursed herself for having displayed something magical. Many times she was right, as they wondered what horrible and awful deal that she had made with the devil or what her parents had done to have her cursed even in the womb.  
“She’s one of them,” someone had once sneered at her, referring to the women and men who dabbled in magic as a way to improve their stations in life. But she was already a princess and second in line to the crown since the queen had no direct heirs and her parents had no other children.  
She supposed there was some benefit to Killian knowing of her abilities, as she no longer had to sneak to replenish the supplies. As she stooped over the bag of oats and the other of flour, she filled them to the brim with a thought and wave of her hand. Then she smiled as she added another of barley and a few other staples that she thought Killian might enjoy. She did not even bother to walk for the water that morning, conjuring it up just as easily.  
“Your skills might save us more than a few steps,” he said, emerging from their shelter and rubbing his eyes as the sun beat down on them. “Would I be a bad friend to ask you for something?”  
She smiled shyly back at him, not used to anyone encouraging her magic. “What would that be, Killian?”  
He smiled back, inspecting the now full bags. “My mother,” he told her, sitting down next to where they usually built the fire to put on his boots, “used to make pies for the bake shop in town. If one were cracked on top or a bit overdone, she would allow my brother and me to have a piece of it.” His smile seemed quite childlike, almost immature on a man she knew was anything but that.  
“Any flavor you liked more than the others?”  
“Surprise me,” he teased, settling his feet into the soft leather of his boots. His eye brows arched at her, almost challenging her with the request. “We could not really make specific requests of her.”  
She took a deep breath, stepping toward him and pulling both of his hands away from his body. She adjusted them so that they were palms up. “Just like that,” she said as though she were teaching him some new skill. Closing her eyes, she thought of the pies that one of the cooks in her parents’ kitchen had made, smelling the warm scents of the dough rising and the fruit marinating in the juices and sugar. She could taste the flakey sweetness on her tongue.  
“You’re a marvel,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. Opening her eyes, she saw a nice sized and fresh pie in still in its pan. His face was in awe, leaning close and breathing in the warm scent of it. “Brilliant.”  
“It’s just a pie, Killian,” she said, not taking any credit for its existence. “I don’t think it is all that brilliant.” She pushed back and retwisted the braid of her hair into a tighter formation.  
Looking up through his dark lashes at her from his seated position, he shook his head slowly. “No, Emma, it is,” he said. “In one moment you created something that reminds me of my mother. It is like she is standing here again.”  
She wiped her hands on her skirts and backed away from him. “I’m glad you didn’t fancy anything more difficult,” she said. “I think that is one of the complicated items I’ve ever made appear. I had to worry about the size, the freshness, the taste, the appearance, and the temperature.”  
“Like I said, Emma, you’re a marvel,” he said, smiling proudly at her humble but pleased expression.  
For most of the morning she tried her hands at conjuring up certain items. She told him several times that she was unsure this was the wisest of ideas, repeating the Blue Fairy’s warning that magic comes with a price and that one should never assume that any magic goes without affecting something else. He often retorted that whatever the price, it was worth it not to eat scant portions of tasteless food.  
“You think this is all a joke,” she said after she managed to produce two down pillows to his amazement and delight. “What if those pillows are somehow enchanted and suffocate us in the middle of the night?”  
He ran his hand along the soft material. “Have you experienced that problem yet?” he asked. “I have not seen anything to indicate that your magic brings with it dark curses or enchantments. Maybe we should trust that they are just pillows?”  
She looked at him as though he’d just suggested something completely outrageous, her mouth hanging open a bit and eyes wide. “How can you go from calling me a witch to trusting that my magic is harmless?”  
It was his turn to be aghast. “I didn’t mean…”  
Emma shook her head quickly. “I understand. You have only thought of women with magic as witches. It is a natural assumption for you to make.” She turned from him. “I think I’d like to rest for a bit,” she added. “Evil or not, magic takes quite a bit of energy and concentration.”  
“Of course,” he said. “I hope you know that I’m quite intrigued by your magic and by your…”  
She did not glance back at him as she entered the shelter that they had now completed with the help of her magic. It still seemed a bit crude, but the walls were sturdy and the roof strong enough to withstand the rain they had seen thus far. The pillows were the first items she had successfully created for the inside of it, but she was thinking of more that she might try later. Three tries at an additional blanket had resulted in nothing more than a scrap of material that Killian said would do as a handkerchief. It had not been a lie for her to tell him that she was a bit shaky and worn out from the exertion. That was quite true, as every inch of her body had to work to create even the smallest bit of magic.  
When Killian came to check upon her, she was fast asleep.  
***AAA***  
Emma heard his muttered curses as she emerged from their shelter, his face pinched in frustration as he worried over the fire. She stood in the doorway for a moment, regarding the way his dark hair did not lay flat on his head and the way that his irritated flush rose from beneath his shirt to the very tips of his ears as though chasing itself.  
“Does that help?” she asked, her hand raising unconsciously to pat down her own hair that she was sure was just as disheveled as his. “Talking to the fire.”  
“We’ve had a little rain while you were asleep,” he commented, rocking back on his heels. “The wood is wet. And by the looks of the clouds we are in for more than a shower.” He pointed toward the horizon where more traditional storm clouds were building and moving closer to their island. “A bad storm, I gather, but for now the fire is the issue.”  
“I see,” she said, chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully. “I could try…”  
“You seem to turn from willing to use your magic to unwilling,” he interrupted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “It could make a man very dizzy.”  
She gaped at him. “I wasn’t thinking about my magic,” she corrected. “Fire is not something I fully understand or know about doing with magic other than stoking one that is already created. I was going to offer to see if there was any dry wood about.”  
His face fell into a chagrined expression as he stood up. “That is a valid idea,” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that I sounded so…”  
She did not interrupt him, but he stopped short anyway, staring at her. The look was so penetrating that she felt quite exposed and raw in front of him. “Killian, I…” She curled her arms around herself, feeling a coldness in the breeze that had not been there before and indicated more rain on the way. “I’ll go to look for more firewood.”  
He nodded his head to her, breaking off the look that he had given her with some regret. “I’ll come with you if you so desire,” he said.  
“I think it better that you should stay here and prepare for the storm,” she said. “You wouldn’t want to feel useless.” It was a low blow, but she did not apologize for it. The recognition in his eyes indicated that he had felt just that.  
***AAA***  
Emma could sense both the approaching storm and the coming of a new season as she wound her way through the paths. She took one of the lesser traveled ones, hoping that the change of scenery would bring with it good luck. Her head swam with the exhaustion that seemed to overtake her from using her magic, limbs trembling from the efforts. But she pressed forward and stopped only so long as to try to make dry wood appear through her mind.  
“It figures that I couldn’t do this simple task,” she muttered. The more she tried to figure out something magical, make it appear, the less likely it was that she was successful. It was the universe’s cosmic way of thumbing its nose at her.  
The clouds were now almost directly overhead, darkening the path even more. The thick foliage of the trees already blocked most of the sun, but with no sun breaking through the almost black clouds, she was practically feeling her way along.  
Using one hand to brace herself against one of the larger trees, she gasped a bit for breath and looked into the dim light. She should go back, she told herself, but the need to do something without the aid of her magic was just as strong. However, Emma felt the overwhelming sense that she was being watched.  
As Killian was the only other island inhabitant, her mind immediately went to him. He was probably following her, she thought disdainfully. It was probably some sort of test or trap to see if she was going to cheat and use her magic rather than her wits. Gathering her skirts into her clenched hands, she continued on the path and carefully avoided the twisted roots and rocks that littered the path.  
It annoyed her that he would be following her, his eyes probably prone to watch her body. He should just admit that he didn’t trust her, she thought. When the large fat rain drops began to fall, she groaned in frustration because she must be nearly all the way across the island. Hoping to find something to help keep her dry, she pressed forward and found herself at the opposite shoreline and in front of the opening of a medium sized cave.  
“It’s better than nothing,” she thought, holding her wet hair braid off of her neck as she stumbled toward the cave opening, landing with a thud on the ground just inside it.Emma gazed out, trying to decide if the storm had let up or not. Of course it hadn’t. She’d been glad to find the cave, but the cool air inside was causing her teeth to chatter. Her wet clothes weren’t helping matters, either, but she just couldn’t bring herself to strip out of them. Besides, they might be helping to keep in what little body warmth she was managing to make.  
She’d spent many of the days on the island praying for a moment’s peace alone from Killian Jones. She wanted to be able to think and act without his blue eyes upon her. She wanted to feel back to herself without his judgment. But as she sat there on the cold hard ground, she recognized in herself that it had not been his eyes that had judged her. She had done that to herself. They had come to an understanding with each other, whether it was the silent time they lay under the same blanket in the night or the way he would gently remind her that this was not the end of their lives.  
She missed his voice telling her that she would succeed, encouraging her or challenging her at every turn. In her mind she could see him standing there, waiting for her to recognize this very fact. Closing her eyes, she pictured his dimpled smile and tousled hair. She tasted his warm kiss on her lips and felt his arms tighten about her as she struggled to stand in the wake of it.  
Pulling herself upright, she turned to go back out to the overhang when a tall, dark figured appeared in the entrance. Emma gasped before she could stop herself. Then, gathering her wits quickly, she leaned down and picked up a nearby rock.

“What are you going do with that? Bludgeon me?” 

The now familiar voice made her pulse jump. 

“Killian? What are doing out here?” she asked, dropping her weapon to the ground and dusting her hand off on her wet dress.

“Looking for a fool woman who took off for parts unknown with the excuse that she’d be right back,” he answered. “Though you’ll have to explain how I found you. I was nowhere near here and suddenly found myself in your presence.”

Slowly, he moved farther into the cave. Emma watched him saunter toward her, his clothes not at all slick with the rain. She didn’t know whether she should have been grateful he was here or taken off to the other end of the cave.

“What did you do, Emma?” he lashed out, his voice barely controlled. “Did you wish me here?”

“Well, I… I was thinking how I wished you were here and then there you were. You had been following me?”

“No, I had just started up the path, thinking you might be hurt. I had not even made it to the spot where the paths diverge into different ones,” he told her, taking another step closer. “It was foolish of you to have kept going even in this storm.”

“Foolish? What I did was leave the camp and get caught in a freak storm. You, however, came out into the rain deliberately. The way I see, I’m not the one with the foolish behavior,” she said.

“I wouldn’t have come out in this if you hadn’t been gone,” he countered. “And you brought me the rest of the way.”

“You would have turned around when you didn’t find me immediately?” she replied coldly. She knew the answer.

“I would have found you,” he said, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t have stopped looking until I did.” Emma saw the gleam in his blue eyes and knew exactly what he was planning.

“Don’t. Don’t come any closer,” she warned, holding her hand up to ward him off.

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” he said, his voice low and unsure how to make her understand or trust him. “I would hurt myself before I hurt you.  
Emma hated the truth in his words; in just a few days Killian had already proven as much. Suddenly, she was just too tired to fight anymore. He watched her arm drop to her side. Her whole body sagged almost imperceptibly, the starch in her spine giving way. He knew she was giving in and he hated himself for making her feel so weak. 

“You must be freezing,” he said, his voice going from challenge to concern. “Stay here a minute.” He removed his own uniform jacket, having worn it for a bit of warmth at the start of his search..  
“I couldn’t,” she said, shaking her head.  
“I know how rough these storms can be,” he said, his head down. “We’ve got a front coming in, which means we’re going to have several long and vicious storms like this all night.”

“You mean we’re stuck here until morning?” she asked, staring back out at the sheets of rain. 

“Yes,” he said, and tossing her the jacket. “Perhaps you aren’t completely soaked through. Remove your outer dress to dry and put the jacket atop.”

Emma merely nodded, thankful for his thoughtfulness. She turned and headed a little further into the cave, enveloping herself in the darkness so she could change in relative privacy. She stripped off her dress and left herself in the white muslin underneath. She wrapped herself in his jacked and buttoned it, enveloping herself in the warmth of it.  
Gathering her wet dress, she did as he told her and laid it out on one of the rocks to dry. “Thank you,” she said, grabbing his attention as her magic sparked well enough to provide them a single lantern. He mused over it with that mixture of awe and wonder that seemed to always find its way to his face. 

Killian looked up and tried hard not to smile at the woman in front of him. He’d seen her looking regal in her dresses on the ship, casually composed on the island, and even sexy as she readied herself for bed. But now, with her hair bedraggled and his jacket hanging off of her, Emma looked more like a little girl than the sophisticated female she portrayed day after day. 

“I was trying conjure up some clothing for myself,” she stammered, avoiding his gaze. “I ended up with a lantern.”

“Haven’t you already tried?” he asked with a chuckle. “The lantern is helpful though, Emma.”

She immediately became defensive, crossing her arms over her chest. Killian stopped her before she could open her mouth.

“I wasn’t insulting you, just making an observation,” he explained. “You will make it work when you can.” He was quiet a moment, watching her and waiting until he saw the worst part of her temper subside. “The lantern will let us see a little at least. It will be better than the pitch black we would have found ourselves in eventually by morning.”

“Morning?” she repeated. “You mean you were earnest when you said we had to stay here until morning? But surely this storm will pass?”

“Eventually,” he agreed, “but then they’ll be another, and another after that.”

“We…we could go during a break,” she pleaded.

Killian raised his eyebrow and continued to study her. “I’m not risking trying to make it back in the dark in a short time period. Now, if you’d like to try…” he trailed off.

Emma didn’t know why, but she felt a sudden and desperate need to get away from him, away from this cave. They had slept side by side for as long as they had been on the island, but this felt different somehow, more intimate. “No, no, you’re right,” she admitted, trying to sound calm. 

***AAA***  
Emma practically wore herself out trying to conjure up anything with her magic, a blanket, a fire, a new dress, a bedroll, anything. Nothing worked. He finally insisted that she stop and rest. So Emma lay on her side, her back against his chest and her eyes wide open. The sound of the pouring rain echoed through the cave as the man behind her breathed even and slow. He had apparently had no trouble falling asleep, but Emma wasn’t so lucky.

When Killian had told her they would have to keep each other warm, she’d been speechless. He’d been reasonable, explaining that, without a fire, they only had each other and their combined body heat. But all she could think of were those two kisses, the ones that had made her melt and set her on fire at the same time. How was she was supposed to share sleeping space with a man who made her feel things she’d only dreamed about? A man who made her do and say things that she knew were childish and, for the most part, inappropriate. He had made her so angry, so tangled up, that she had lost her ability to function. When had she lost all her common sense?  
For all the times for her mother’s words to come to her mind, she felt that moment was the least opportune. “When I met your father, I lost all my common sense for a moment,” she said with a smile that lit up the room. “It’s just…when you’re in love, you lose everything but hope. Normally I’m so logical, so straight forward, but when it comes to your father, well, I’m…I’m sure of only one thing. I’m sure that he and I were always meant to find each other.”

Her mother’s words about love suddenly filled her mind, making her go cold with shock. Love? Why in the world would she recall her mother’s opinion of love? It wasn’t as if she was falling in love…no, there was no way. Falling in love with a man like Killian Jones? It was absurd. She had known him for less than…and Emma did not believe in love for herself – did she? No, absolutely not.

I am not in love with Killian. I am not in love with Killian. I am not in love with Killian. She repeated the phrase over and over in her mind until she finally fell asleep.

***AAA*** (Don’t read this last part if you are not okay with adult/sexual things)

Killian woke slowly with the warm feeling of a soft body pressed against him. He smiled in his half-sleep, spooning the female form closer. He buried his face in her thick hair, inhaling the scent as he began to nuzzle his way down to her neck. 

Carefully, he pushed her tresses out of the way and began nipping the smooth skin of the nape of her neck. He felt her stir, her round bottom moving erotically against him. He groaned with pleasure as his mouth made its way to nibble her ear. The sound of the purr rising in her throat drove his hardening body further, his hands working their way under his own jacket that she was now using as a blanket. Killian trailed his fingertips up and down her ribcage over the thin muslin material she wore, revelling in the writhing response he was getting. 

His lips left her ear to travel back down her neck as his legs wrapped around hers. Her body bent back, thrusting her chest out in a temptation he couldn’t resist. 

Killian slowly stroked his fingers further up until he found her breasts. He moaned in satisfaction when he realized how the thin material gave way and opened to his hands. Gently, he began kneading her tender flesh, grazing her throat and shoulder with his teeth as he massaged her. 

Emma gasped in reaction to his touch, surprised at how quickly her body became inflamed. She hadn’t realized at first what was happening; just that she had been drug from her deep sleep into a world of swirling color and sensual feeling. She didn’t know if she was dreaming, but she prayed desperately that, if she was, she wouldn’t wake up.

Killian caressed her breast, teasing the hardened tip as he did. He couldn’t ever remember a dream being so real, or so good. He moved his hand slowly down, carefully scraping his fingertips over her stomach until felt the ties that kept the material on her. Determined, he worked his fingers under the knots and successfully pulling the material away from her, skimming his palm across her flattened belly to her naked hip.  
Emma wriggled her bottom, blindly willing his hand down. She had never felt this before, had never had the driving need to have such intimate contact. She moaned deeply and reached out to grasp his arm, clawing his skin in her haste to have him touch her.

The feeling of her nails in his arm woke Killian completely, stopping his seduction abruptly. He slowly propped himself up on his elbow, his breathing harsh in the dark pre-dawn, and carefully rolled her over to her back.

Emma stared up at Killian, her face flushed and her eyes clouded. Why had he stopped? Didn’t he know she would die if he didn’t finish what he had started?

“Emma,” he said softly, watching her passion hazed features for a reaction.

She gazed up at him, her breathing as heavy as his. Did he need the words, she wondered? Wasn’t her response to his touch enough?

Killian saw it in her eyes. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Still, he had to be sure.

“Emma?” he asked, his voice suddenly husky.

She didn’t answer, only wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers. The kiss became heated, their lips melding together as their tongues entangled in the way their bodies longed to.

Killian needed no further encouragement. He lost himself in their kiss, letting her take the lead and set the pace as they drove each other beyond reason. He ran his hands back up her bare ribs, deftly pulling the loose material over her head and to the ground. Killian leaned back long enough to fill his eyes with her naked flesh; on a groan, he slammed his mouth back down on hers.

Emma pushed her hands between their bodies, yanking on his button up shirt. The buttons popped, ricocheting off the rock wall and hard ground. Neither one heard and neither one cared. Emma pulled his shirt down while Killian raised his arms, brutally shaking the soft material away. 

When their bare skin touched, Killian felt the world tilt, his breath catching at the erotic feel of her nude body beneath him. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. When he felt her underneath him, stripped to her fiery skin, all thought of taking it slow, of drawing out the sensual feelings they were creating together, disappeared from his mind.

Emma melted against him, her bones liquefying at his touch. She was becoming frantic, the absolute need to have him just as naked as she was forcing her hands into action. She played her fingers down the hard planes of his chest, pausing to outline each rib and defined muscle with her long nails. Killian groaned into her mouth, his punishing assault more exciting than any kiss she’d experienced. 

When her hands found she unfastened them and pulled the material as far down as her arms would reach. Killian moved again, raising his hips and kicking his pants the rest of the way off. They were finally naked, their moist skin clinging together as they explored each other’s bodies. 

Emma revelled in the sensation of his body, the way it fit to hers, the way his hands stroked and coaxed her to fever pitch. Her hands were like hot coals on his skin, scorching his nerves with every touch, every caress daring him to match her bold moves. She needed him, completely and totally, and suddenly just the fondling wasn’t enough. She urged him with her deepening kisses to take her, wrapping her legs around his waist in invitation. He didn’t hesitate.

Killian took what she offered, setting the age old pace their bodies had been yearning for. He drove them faster, higher, than either of them had ever been. Emma held on to him, moving with him, letting herself fall into the rhythm he created. She was quickly, surely, being thrust toward the sharply jagged cliffs of fulfilment. When she was there, he led her along the sharp edge of release, holding her there for what felt like hours. Finally, she plunged over the boundary, her body bowing underneath his as her scream echoed around them.

Killian felt her plummet, knew the moment she let herself go, and he joined her in her descent.

A/N: I hope you are enjoying or still enjoying this fic. There is quite a surprise (at least I don’t think anyone has guessed it) in the next chapter.  
So tell me what you think the surprise could be or what you want it to be…I’m curious how people are interpreting the set up. Who/What do you think was actually following Emma? If the kisses between them sparked her magic, what will be the result here?


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N: I have big plans for tomorrow so I was not sure I could get this up for anyone to read. So therefore, I'm going to post a little early. Great guesses about what you thought Emma's magic would provide. Nobody got it - which makes me laugh in a very evil way right now. I hope you enjoy the twist.** _

  


Emma woke slowly, the watery light of morning warming her face. There was a freshness in the air after the rain subsided the next morning and sun began to shine in sharp rays through the dissipating clouds. Emma felt the warmth of Killian’s breath on her skin and the tingling touch of his fingertips still absently touching her even in his obvious sleep. She stared out of the cave’s opening and felt the flush of her skin grow warm as she considered what had transpired the night before with him.

There was a slight sense of embarrassment as she remembered her reactions to him, the way that she had thrown herself head first into this. Regret was too strong of a word for what she was feeling, but she also did not know what her first words to him should be when he finally did awaken. One of his legs was slung over hers and his arms had wrapped around her to hold her against him. She was not without blame, as the upper half of her body was splayed over his chest. There was no way she could remove herself from their tangle of limbs without alerting him. Where could she go anyway? It was not as though she had a plethora of locations where she would be able to sit and contemplate or decide how she actually felt.

That was part of the problem. She could name what she felt, knew the emotions just under the surface, but did she want to name them when she had no idea if he was naming them too. It was one thing to behave this way and feel those things when you were stranded on an island with someone, but what about when they escaped or were rescued. What would real life do to whatever it was that they had between them?

She stirred, stretching her arms and arching her back. Her body felt languorous, soft and pliable and oddly satisfied. Killian’s eyes popped open when he heard her move; he had only dozed since their sexual encounter, opting to stay mostly awake and enjoy the sensation of her body against his. He knew she’d be confused when she woke up, and possibly even angry. But he was prepared to deal with whatever emotion she decided to toss at his head, as long as she promised not to regret what they had done. And maybe, just maybe, he could convince her that they should do it again. She sat up, pushing his muscled arms away from her waist. She pulled her long hair out of her face, blinking to clear her vision. What the hell was she supposed to do now? “Good morning,” he said from behind her. She jumped a foot, her heart racing when she realized he was awake, too. She was hoping for some time to prepare herself to face him, but that obviously wasn’t going to happen. “Um, good morning,” she replied. “I…I hope I didn’t wake you.” He smiled to himself, listening to the nerves that laced her voice. Here she was, so calm cool and collected to the outside world, but the minute she let herself go, the second she stopped thinking and started doing, she lost all control. Not that that was a bad thing, he decided. It had been absolutely wonderful to have her turn in his arms, hot and ready, her mouth and body giving him pleasure that he didn’t realize existed. Now, though, in the harsh reality of daylight, Emma was pulling back into her shell. She was probably busy mentally torturing herself for doing anything that wasn’t thought out and planned. Didn’t she know how wonderful surprises could be? Hadn’t she ever just done something for the joy of it? Or had everything in her life always been plotted and researched? Thinking about what she had revealed of her childhood, Killian knew the answer to his questions. She had been an adult most of her life, even when it wasn’t appropriate for her to be. Pampered as she might have been as a princess, she’d never had the opportunity to do or be anything that wasn’t directly related to her kingdom and subjects. “Emma,” he said softly, sitting up and staring at her bare back, “please don’t shut me out.” The blonde woman’s body stiffened, the sound of his sleep roughened request rippling down her back. She had been shuffling ideas in her mind, trying to decide what to do about the situation she’d gotten herself into. True, she was terribly attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? God knew, he wasn’t perfect, and had the most annoying habits that drove her to distraction. He was stubborn, hot headed, high handed and, most of the time, obtuse. But at the same time there were things about him that melted her heart. He was unbelievably kind, a fact he’d tried to hide from everyone but her, but a trait she’d seen nonetheless. He was loyal to his brother, but had chosen his feelings for her over his brother’s reservations. He was skilled and dedicated to serving the crown. It was no secret that he could have been so much more than a naval officer, but he chose it and exceled. Now he wanted her to face him, to admit what they had done together last night and discuss what to do now. She didn’t know if she had the strength for it. “Emma, stop dissecting everything we’ve ever done and said to each other,” Killian said, reaching up to touch her shoulder. “Turn around and talk to me.” She knew there was no way out of this. Taking a deep breath, she turned slowly on her bottom until she was staring into his bright blue eyes. “Last night…” she began. “I shouldn’t have behaved so poorly,” he interrupted. “I should never have allowed myself to take advantage of you on the ground like this. You should never be treated with anything other than love, respect, and honor, Emma. I apologize for violating whatever trust we had between us.” “You don’t need to apologize,” she said, staring down at her folded hands. “I don’t blame you; you gave me a chance to stop. I’m the one who said yes, I’m the one who allowed it to continue.” “Allowed? You don’t blame me? Emma, stop analyzing our sleeping together like some cold-blooded woman. We made love last night…” She groaned and buried her head in her hands. “We both enjoyed ourselves. It was incredible; I loved touching you, feeling you, and I loved your hands on me even more. You felt the same things I did; don’t sit there and try to deny it. I only regret that it wasn’t more romantic or special for you.” Emma said nothing, just shook her head slowly and removed her hands. She didn’t want to see the truth in his words, didn’t want to open herself up to something she knew would be painful. She’d never cared for anyone deeply before, she’d seen what loving someone had done to people she knew. Her parents were the only examples she could think of where they did not turn to a marriage of convenience rather than a real relationship. Every other marriage that she was privy to includes mistresses and tales of scandal that rocked kingdoms. And she was afraid, utterly terrified, that Killian Jones was the kind of man women fell in love with quite easily. “Love…” “Don’t call me that,” she bit out. “I would think calling you that this morning was at least somewhat appropriate. Listen, I’m not declaring my undying love. What I am saying is that there is obviously something between us, and I think we both deserve the chance to find out what it is,” he finished in a reasonable tone. “At least while we are…”

“Stuck here?” she asked, her own lips quirking up.

“Yes,” he answered. “Look, the rain has let up. Why don’t we check out this cave a little and then see about getting back to camp?”

“You want to check out this cave?” she said incredulously.

“Why not?” he asked, his eyes looking less serious and more mischievous. “We have a lantern, thanks to you. Who knows? There might be something useful in here.”

Dressing quickly, the two began to walk toward the back of the cave. There was a slight incline and Emma’s shoes slid on the cold rock of it. Killian reached out his hand to her, pulling her up as they went along. “Do you hear that?” Emma asked, her hand gripping his and pulling it back. “That strange sound?”

He shifted his head from her gaze to the dark path ahead. “I don’t, darling,” he said.

She frowned and followed him, still gripping his hand though the path flattened out quite a bit. There was now a distinguishable glow ahead of them and sound of wind was even louder. She could feel her hair blowing back from her face and the warmth of whatever the light was heating her skin. Killian stopped short, her eyes squinting into the light. “Perhaps we should turn back,” he said, ignoring her pleading eyes.

“I want to see,” she said, pushing forward. He walked next to her, still holding the lantern that was rapidly becoming obsolete as the light grew stronger. “What is that?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, gripping her tighter as he felt the strength of the light pulling at them. “Step back.”

His words were too late as the whooshing sound increased and echoed in their ears, pressure building and lifting them up and toward the swirling vortex of light and confusion. Emma felt herself float through the air toward the unknown entity, Killian’s hand still gripping her as he was being pulled too. The light that had seemed so bright enveloped them and turned into a dark nothingness until they were once again free from its grip, spitting them out unceremoniously onto the ground.

Killian opened his eyes first, the expansive night sky above him and the smell of car exhaust tickling at his nose. “Where the bloody hell are we?” he asked, looking over at the crumpled form to his left. Emma was practically curled into a ball, her dress and long blonde hair the only parts of her that he could see from his own awkward position.

Feeling as though he’d just been through the world’s largest whirlpool, he groaned as he sat up and tried to stand. Muscles ached and his joints cracked with the effort, his right hand rubbing the upper part of his left arm with vigor. “Emma,” he said, his tone as normal as he could make it. “Emma, darling?” He bent to shake her, touch her shoulder to awaken her if need be.

“Where are we?” she asked, looking just as perplexed as he felt. “And what is that scent? It is nauseatingly…”

“I don’t know,” he said, pulling her up to standing, he dropped her hand to put his arms about her waist. To his relief she did not pull away. “I’ve been looking at the stars and they are not like we were seeing on the island. I’ve never seen these patterns before.”

She craned her neck back, staring up into what he was describing. “That doesn’t make sense, Killian,” she said, gripping his arms tightly when she almost tipped backwards from staring up. “If we’re not home and we’re not on the island – where are we?”

The sound of a van driving by grew louder and both of them jumped at the roaring noises. Wide eyed and confused, Emma tilted her head in the direction of the now gone van. “Should we follow it?”

“What was it?” he asked, nodding in agreement. “It moved faster than any horse I’ve ever seen.”

Killian was no disappointed that Emma held to his hand and stood tight against him when she heard the odd sounds or saw the strange sights. They both marvelled over the things like street signs that were so thin and the roads that were harder than dirt and smoother than the stone paths of their homes. Not everything was unusual though. Their walk from where the portal dropped them to the actual town included passing by several farms and there were even familiar sights of birds and woodland animals that helped Emma realize that no all was foreign to them.

“Wow, cool costumes,” a dark haired woman with red tints said as she jogged out in front of Emma and Killian. “There are a Ren Fest or something going on nearby because those almost look authentic. The tall, thin woman leaned forward and touched the fabric on Emma’s sleeve. “Like I said, those are awesome.”

“Could you perhaps tell us where we are?” Emma asked, eyeing the strangely dressed woman suspiciously. The woman’s long legs were covered in a tight material that reminded Emma of pants that men wore only clingier. Her top stopped just below her breasts and left her arms and neck completely bare, and on her feet she wore some sort of shoes that were neither boots nor slippers.

“Storybrooke,” the woman said, smiling widely with darkly painted lips. “You know, Maine?”

  


 


	15. Chapter 15

**_This chapter is a bit smaller, but I have a busy day with work stuff, meetings, and a large event tonight. You’ll see some differences between this version of Storybrooke and the one in Season 1, but there is a purpose for it._ **

The dark haired woman brushed off the awkward stares and gaping looks at the town as she walked with them back toward the diner where she worked. It was her grandmother’s place she said, and Emma had a feeling just who she would see inside, as Red might look a little different without her trademark cloak and hood, but her eyes and smile were still the same as when she last saw the woman sitting next to the fire with her mother talking.

“I’m Ruby, by the way,” Red said extending her hand out awkwardly. “You would be?”

Killian’s mouth opened to speak, but a quick squeeze from Emma’s hand and he closed it again.

“It’s not a hard question,” Ruby said over her shoulder as she turned to walk down the last block. “I just need something to call you.”

Emma knew that this must be what her parents had referred to when they said she would be able to remember them but nobody else would remember anything. Obviously this was a strange part of the curse. “Emma,” she said with a smile. “And this is Killian.”

The woman repeated their names and kept walking. “You must have car trouble,” she continued. “Nobody walks where you were unless they’ve run out of gas or something.”

Confusion settled over both of them, unsure what a car or gas even were. “I…well…we…”

Ruby stopped dead in her tracks, turning about as if sniffing the truth. “Let me guess,” she said. “No car, no money, you were hoping you’d find a good place to stay tonight and then look for work in the morning, right? I get it. The economy still kind of sucks.”

Killian took the clues she provided and smiled humbly. “Yes, I’m afraid we are a bit down on our luck,” he said.

Ruby sighed as though she had heard this type of thing before, her mouth contorting in concentration. “My grandmother owns a bed and breakfast with a diner. I’ll talk to her and see, but maybe we can get you something to eat and a room. Tomorrow you can work on the job thing.”

She led them straight through the front door of Granny’s, the light dim since the restaurant was already closed. “Granny!” she called out, indicating that the two should take the table in front of them. “Granny!”

“No need to bellow,” the older woman said, coming out of the kitchen area with her hands on her hips and a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose. “You were supposed to be back half an hour ago to finish the orders. You weren’t out…” The woman stopped short and stared at the pair sitting at the table. “Ruby, you didn’t bring me more strays, did you?”

“I haven’t done that in a while and they weren’t strays. We knew them.” Ruby leaned over the counter, reaching for two glasses. Her feet came up off the floor as she dangled her hands over to the other side. “They don’t have a car or anything. I found them on my run and said we’d help them out tonight.”

“I’m running a restaurant here,” Granny spat, her eyes narrowing on the couple. “This isn’t a soup kitchen.”

Undaunted, Ruby filled the two glasses and placed them in front of Killian and Emma. “Ignore her,” the brunette said. “Her bark’s worse than her bite.” She turned and looked at the dark kitchen with a frown. “Kitchen’s not open, but I bet we have something for you in there. Maybe a sandwich.” Without waiting for confirmation from them or permission from the older woman, she dashed into the kitchen and turned on all the lights.

“Did you see that?” Emma whispered after Granny retreated to question her granddaughter some more. “The light. It just lit up like nothing. They don’t even have a fire going in here and it is warm.”

Killian agreed that the situation was highly odd, his own hands itching to touch a similar switch next to a doorway. “Do you know her?” he asked. “It looked like you recognized her.”

Emma bit her lip, leaning closer over the table. They both looked familiar to her, but the modern clothing and different name for Red was confusing. “They look familiar,” she admitted, keeping her voice low. “Ruby looks like my mom’s dear friend who was named Red, but I don’t think she even recognizes me.”

Killian sipped the soda that the woman had placed in front of him, his face contorting as he noted the bubbles and fizz from the carbonation. He pushed it away from himself as though it might do something more sinister. “So she said this place is called Storybrooke?”

“I think that must be the village name,” Emma concluded, not touching her own drink after Killian’s reaction. “And the kingdom is something called Maine? I don’t know that I’ve ever heard of either. Did you come across those names during your times at seat?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but promptly shut it when Ruby re-entered. “I heated up some tomato soup,” she began, passing the dishes out to them, “plus grilled cheese for both of you.” She leaned back on her heels and watched them stare at the food for a moment. “Did you not like the soda? Is it flat?”

“I’ve never had anything like it before,” Emma admitted, hoping that was not a mistake. “It’s interesting.”

Ruby frowned, pushing her hair back over her shoulder with one hand. “Health nuts,” she muttered. “Granny’s not really big on the health food options, but I’ve got some juice, tea, and of course water.” Both of their eyes grew as the woman got water from a sink with no sign of a well or bucket.

The woman sat down at the table with them, plopping a key down on the table. “I’ve got a room for you with a town view,” she said quickly. “It doesn’t look like you have any luggage so I can see what I have for you to wear Emma. Come downstairs tomorrow and I’ll see what I can do to help you find a job.”

“You’re very kind, Re…Ruby,” Emma said with a smile. “I’m glad we ran into you.”

“Of course,” Ruby said, brushing off the comment. “Where are you guys from anyway? I’ve never even been out of this town. I always want to know more about places.”

“We are from a small island,” Killian offered, looking to Emma for compliance. “Very small place.”

Ruby sighed, leaning back in the chair and folding her arms over her chest. “Sounds quiet,” she said knowingly. “You’d think this place is quiet, but it is just boring. Everyone knows everyone. Nobody new ever comes around. I could scream from the boredom of it all.”

“Are there many inhabitants of this Storybrooke?” Killian asked, careful to not seem too curious.

“It’s on the small side,” Ruby confirmed. “You’ll like it if you decide to stay. Are you guys married?”

“Us…” Emma stammered. “Ummm...no….”

Ruby again nodded in that knowledgeable way. “Well I hate to break it to you, but this town sucks for dating. It’s the same rejects showing up again and again. It becomes practically incestuous when your friend starts dating the guy you dated who she dated two years ago or something. It sucks.” She stood up abruptly, pushing the chair back so hard that it rocked precariously. “Don’t let me disturb you. Come up to your room when you’re ready. I’ll see if I have some pajamas and leave them in there for you.”

***AAA***

While they spoke most of the night discussing theories and trying to figure out the strange devices of this new village and kingdom, Emma had to admit they knew very little more than when they started. Even the clothes were strange, as Ruby had dropped off jeans and a t-shirt with a short red coat for her to wear. She’d even scrounged up similar clothing from what one of her dates had left behind for Killian.

“Do you think people really dress like this here or is it our new barmaid friend?” Killian asked, looking at Emma in the outfit. “You look lovely in that, but it is not anything like what I have seen a woman wear in any port I’ve visited.”

Emma shrugged, placing the jacket on to feel a little more covered despite the warm temperature of the room. “I still can’t get over how they can keep this place so toasty without a single fireplace or stove in this room? Or that outhouse that is actually inside. The bathing tub doesn’t require you to go to the well.”

“It is all quite a marvel,” Killian agreed. “But we can’t let ourselves get distracted. We need to figure out where this place is in relation to your home and more specifically how to get you back there.”

Emma stepped away from the bathroom mirror and sighed. “I’m sorry. This is just so fascinating. I wish I had asked my parents more about the curse that was coming. They only said they would not be able to remember me and that I would be the one to break it.”

Killian lifted a small rectangular card from the dresser top and stared at it. They had read it last night, unsure what WIFI was exactly or why it needed a password. They had taken to calling it wiffy and Emma thought it might be a way to communicate with a wizard and Killian thought it sounded like a dessert. “Is it possible that they could be here in this Storybrooke?” he asked, more to himself than to her. “Perhaps we should seek them out.”

“First things first,” she said moving toward the door. “Ruby or Red or whoever she is seems to think we need employment to live here. We should probably see to that.”

***AAA***

Ruby was uncharacteristically quiet when the two emerged into the diner. No patrons were there yet, but a man wearing a suit and carrying a can stood in the center of the room and looked toward Granny with a condescending smirk on his face.

“I don’t like making repeat trips,” he spat at her, his expression one of boredom and arrogance all in one. “Do you have your rent?”

The older woman shuffled toward the old fashioned cash register and pressed harshly on the buttons until the drawer shot open and slammed into her stomach. “Right here, Mr. Gold,” the woman said. She placed a stack of green bills into the man’s hand and bowed her head a bit. “It’s all there. You can count it.”

He shoved it into his pocket and spun toward the door before stopping short and turning back to Emma and Killian. He offered them a smile that made Emma imagine a snake before it gobbled up its prey. “Newcomers?” he asked, waving off Ruby’s attempt to speak. “How nice. You are?”

Emma looked at Killian who was eyeing the man a bit more closely. “Emma and Killian,” she offered when no one else said a word.

“Emma,” the man said, his voice dripping with some unsaid emotion. “What a beautiful name. I’m Mr. Gold.”

The blonde woman felt Killian’s hand at the small of her back, her own muscles tense. “Pleasure to meet you,” she said, resisting the urge to curtsey as was her trained custom.

**_Please review. I’d love to know how you are feeling about this._ **

 


	16. Chapter 16

**_I realize this is another short chapter, but I’m still tired from last night and all the stuff going on at work. I didn’t want to leave you hanging so I thought would add it. I promise that there will be a good update this weekend. And the sneak peek of Sunday’s episode inspired me a little so I went there too._ **

“I hate this idea,” Killian admitted the next morning as they were readying themselves for breakfast and their first days on their jobs. “You’re a princess, Emma, you shouldn’t have to work like a common person,” he frowned, “and certainly not something as menial as helping around the diner.”

Emma buttoned the white shirt of her uniform and blushed as she looked in the full length mirror in their room. “I don’t think I’ll ever be used to this skirt. You can see my legs.” Ruby had convinced her to take a few shifts at the diner, running orders to people who phoned them in, waitressing, and even busing a few tables. The brunette said she was sure something better would come along, but for now they could use the help around the diner. “As for working in this,” she thought about the word for a moment, “diner, I think it will be good for our cause. My parents probably eat here. I’ll be sure to run into them.”

“We don’t know for sure that they are here,” he mused, tying the shoes that Ruby had dropped off for him. “This could be something completely unrelated to the curse.”

“It’s related,” she insisted. “And besides, I’m not doing anything by working that you aren’t doing yourself.” Killian had been invited by Victor Whale to work at the hospital’s administration office. When asked if he knew how to use a computer, Killian had admitted he didn’t. But the doctor was undeterred and obviously eager to impress Ruby. He promised to teach Killian himself if that meant that Ruby would agree to another date.

Emma was certainly right that she would see everyone at the diner. She saw friends from all her years, her parents’ confidants, and even a few people she had only met in passing. None of them gave her a second look and two of them kept calling her Emily. She tried to act as though she was not secretly listening to each conversation, but the truth was shew as desperate for any morsel of news.

Ruby passed her a bottle of water, which Emma stared at hopelessly. “What’s this for?” she asked, confused that it was not one of the typical glasses with ice.

“The mayor prefers it in a bottle,” Ruby said with exasperation. “She keeps trying to make this place into more than just a diner. It’s never been five star. We serve burgers not rib eye. We’re a fish sticks kind of place, not scallops.”

Emma tried not to look too surprised when she watched her mother’s step mother appear in the doorway. A very unhappy dwarf moved to make room for the woman in her favorite seat. The woman was just as regal and majestic in her modern clothing, the dark hair curling perfectly around her face and her slightly upturned nose perfect for her to appear disinterested and above everyone.

“She’s not going to be nice,” Ruby said, giving the new waitress a slight push. “Just keep your head down and your eyes averted.”

The blonde wasn’t sure if Ruby was serious or not, but taking the bottle of water with her in a shaking hand, Emma crossed over to where the woman sat. “Good morning, what can I get you?”

The woman eyed her, suspiciously regarding everything with a critical eye. When she was finished, Emma felt exposed, vulnerable, and annoyed as the woman’s straight lined mouth turned into a sneer. “I’ll have my usual,” the woman said. “Surely that little harlot gave you that information when she was warning you about me?”

Emma blushed as though she’d been caught, but quickly sucked in a breath. “I’m sure that you can appreciate Madam Mayor that I have relied upon Ruby and her grandmother to give me the lay of the land, including the idiosyncrasies of all the patrons. However, I was not sure if you do order the same thing every day or if you have more originality in you.”

Regina’s face clouded with a mix of anger and suspicion. “You’re new in town,” she seethed. “That’s a bit odd in these parts and even odder that you feel it appropriate to…”

Granny slid in and delivered the woman’s order. “Here you go,” she said, placing a now free hand on Emma’s arm. “Just the way you like it.”

Emma followed the older woman back into the kitchen and prepared herself for a lecture on decorum and propriety. Instead the woman simply smiled. “The woman is a royal pain in the rear,” she said, glancing at the swinging door as though the offensive mayor was standing there. “You do have to serve her, but I have no problem if you happen to drop her toast on the ground before you do.”

Emma’s smile was unhidden as the woman pointed toward a copy box on the prep table and smiled. “That’s a lot of orders,” Emma breathed as one of the cooks dropped another bag into it.

“Lunch for the teachers,” Granny announced. “It’s a teacher work day so that means 20 grown adults learning something and battling growling stomachs. The later the day gets and the hungrier they are, you can cut the tension with a knife. So I’ll need you to deliver sandwiches to them in about an hour. I’ll put the directions on the box and the box will be in the walk in.” The older woman spun and turned to the stove where she inspected the work of one of her cooks, yelling about too much salt and not the right temperature. She never waited for an answer, assuming that everyone would do as she wished.

***AAA***

Emma hated the fact that her legs were bare and on display in the red skirt that she wore and that her white shirt was thin enough that in the right kind of lighting you could see through it. And it took her quite a while to figure out that the short socks were this world’s version of tights. The sneakers, as Ruby had called them, were comfortable. Soft and cushiony on the inside, Emma wondered what they were made of, as the shoes she had back at home included leather boots and satin slippers. The sole of these sneakers was a bit like leather, but not quite. Emma had spent 15 minutes that morning discussing what it could be only to have Killian throw himself back on the bed in frustration that she was concentrating on things unrelated to the mission at hand.

“Those shoes have nothing to do with breaking a curse or finding your parents,” he had said grumpily.

“You’re just mad that I’m not wearing shoes like Red wears,” Emma had said, one finger poking at the rubber sole of her shoe. “Those spikes at the heel of her foot make her legs look really…”

“Long,” Killian had finished, his face flushing with the look that Emma gave him.

Emma shifted the box in her hands, using her foot and hip to open the door to the school building that seemed quiet without all the students milling about the hallways. Emma had been educated at the palace, numerous tutors brought in to teach of her history, languages, and everything that a young princess should know. She’d ridden past the one room school in the town near the palace a few times, seen the children playing outside and the teacher lining them up carefully. She’d never imagined that the inside of that dreary structure might look anything like Storybrooke Elementary School.

The walls were brightly painted with murals of fantastic scenes. Students’ artwork hung on the walls with glitter and bright colors. There were class libraries and reading centers in each room with bright and big pillows. Tiny plants grew in make shift milk carton containers and name plates adorned each desk.

“Lunch is served,” a woman announce as Emma found the group of teachers just where Granny said they would be located. The group dispersed from their discussion and huddled around Emma who was a bit shell shocked at the crowd. The red head she’d seen from the diner a few times took control of the situation. She called out orders and names in random order.

“Mary Margaret, did you have tuna salad or chicken salad?”

“Chicken,” came a voice that made Emma’s stomach clench with the familiar cadence of the one word. As a child, Emma used to sit in her room to do her reading. She would leave the door open just a crack so that she could hear her mother from the first moment the woman stepped onto the long hallway. The sound always reminded her of that moment when Emma would fling herself into the brunette woman’s arms and feel that nothing could touch her.

Emma looked past the crowd of hungry teachers, her eyes locking on the beautiful Snow. Her breathing shortened and her mouth went dry as the woman showed no recognition in her eyes. Still there was a sweet smile on her face and a slight head tilt of sympathy. “Teachers are not known for their manners when the students aren’t here,” she laughed, sticking out her sandwichless hand. “I’m Mary Margaret. You must be the new girl that Ruby was telling me about.”

Emma nodded, unable to say anything. The feeling of her mother shaking her hand, a move that was usually only done between men back home, was a strange sensation. Her own lips curled slightly into a smile.

“Don’t worry,” the brunette said, motioning toward a nearby folding table that had been set up. “Ruby hasn’t said much. She’s a gossip, but not malicious about it.”

“I’m not used to being…”

“The center of attention?” Mary Margaret answered gleefully. “Honestly, I’m glad you are giving her something else to focus on besides me. She’s been after me for weeks about these blind dates. Only they aren’t really blind when you already know everyone in this town.” Mary Margaret unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite, closing her eyes as she let the flavor melt on her tongue. “She tells me you have a boyfriend though. Living with a guy named Kenny or something.”

Emma blushed, not used to her mother’s informal attitude and knowing that Snow would absolutely die to know that her daughter was not only living with a naval officer but had slept with him in a cave. “Killian,” she corrected. “We’re…It’s…”

Mary Margaret took another bite and nodded. “Complicated,” she said knowingly. “What relationship isn’t? But seriously, if he’s a good guy and you love him then quit worrying about it. Don’t borrow trouble.” She giggled girlishly and pushed the other half of the sandwich toward Emma. “Listen to me. We’ve known each other less than five minutes and I’m prying into your love life.”

***AAA***

Killian’s eyes were closed and his head dropped to the side as he sat in the wingback chair next to the bed in their room. He’s already kicked off his boots and his dress shirt that he’d picked up for work was hanging off the bathroom door. Emma couldn’t help but notice that he’d turned on every lamp in the room, still fascinated as she was by fireless light. She carefully turned most of them off, slipping off her own shoes and socks and leaving the bag from the diner on the bedside table.

“Emma?” he mumbled questioningly. “Is that you?” He still had not opened his eyes, but he was clearly aware that she was in the room.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m sorry I’m tardy, but I worked until the dinner shift and then…”

He opened his eyes carefully, his expression a bit embarrassed. “You don’t have to explain, darling. I know you’ve been trying to find your family.”

She smiled proudly, sitting across from him on the edge of the bed. “I found my mother,” she said, the smile growing on her face. “She’s a teacher here. Mary Margaret Blanchard. She looks and sounds just the same, but…”

He frowned when her expression fell just as suddenly as she had become elated. “She didn’t recognize you?”

“No,” Emma said. “She was very kind and sweet, even offered me half of a sandwich, but it was like she was just a friend and not even my mother.” Emma had pulled her hair out of the ponytail that all the waitresses seemed to wear and her hair fell down around her shoulders in long soft waves. “I don’t know how to do this, Killian. How do I make her remember?”

The sailor shook his head sadly. “I wish I knew, love,” he said. “Any luck finding your father?”

“No,” she said weakly. “What about Liam? Is it possible?...”

“We don’t even know if he survived much longer after we escaped the ship, love,” he said, placing a fist at the spot between his eyes. “I’m afraid we are quite inept at this. We seem to be running in circles.”

The tears were stinging in her eyes and her shoulders shook as she let them finally break free. “She didn’t know me at all. She looked upon me like a stranger.” Her voice cracked and her hands shuttered her face as he moved forward to sit next to her, holding her in his own arms. His chin rested on the top of her head as he pulled her against him.

“She will remember you, Emma,” he said. “We’re going to determine the nature of this curse and we shall clear it up as soon we can. And we’ll figure out all the mysteries of this world. Including what material your shoes consist of, love.”

Through the sobs that still hung in her throat, she laughed. “I brought us dinner,” she said. Ruby saw me coming up the stairs and gave it to me.”

“I am a bit hungry, and you?”

“Yes, she admitted, pulling back from him and reaching for the bag. I’m not sure what it is exactly. Ruby said there were grilled cheese sandwiches, which we’ve had before, but there is something else. It’s something called onion rings.”

**_Your encouraging words are really a blessing right now. You have no idea how much they help me push through the days._ **


	17. Chapter 17

**_A/N: I didn’t get to mention it yesterday, but I had to laugh at the comments about Wifi. My father, who is 71, is not much for technology. I took him to dinner at his favorite little diner and he saw a sign about the Wifi being free. He became very excited. So I asked him what he was so happy about and he said he was going to get a free “Wiffy” for dessert. The waitress overheard and laughed, but she brought him a free ice cream sundae and called it a wiffy. I couldn’t help but think that a confused Killian might think the same thing._ **

Ruby slammed the tray on the counter and rolled her eyes dramatically as the cook yelled through the window that he was done with the special orders. “You wouldn’t speak to Granny that way,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “I’m in charge today and when a customer wants a burger with no cheese and extra onion, you’re going to give it to me.” The man rolled his eyes back and returned to his spot in front of the grill.

Emma heard the whole exchange as she wiped the table closest to the door and smiled. Ruby, who had confided on more than one occasion that she was uncomfortable in the leadership role, had been forced more than once to run the diner. She went from flirtatious and friendly to a steamroller of sarcasm and bossiness in less than five seconds, which was fun to watch from the outside.

“You’ve been here since six,” Ruby noted, plopping down at the table where Emma was cleaning. “Don’t you need a break?”

“I’m fine,” Emma said, gathering up the condiment dispensers to refill. “What about you? You’ve been here just as long.”

Ruby tilted her head back and rolled it from one shoulder to the other with a histrionic sigh. “My grandmother is grooming me to take over the diner,” she said. “She doesn’t ask me if I want that. She just does it in her own passive aggressive way. And so I’m stuck here.”

Emma looked at her mother’s friend sweetly. “It’s not a bad place to be stuck,” she said. “You have your grandmother. You have plenty to do. It’s a nice place.”

“Says a person who’s been working here less than a week. Just wait. You’ll know what I mean soon.” Ruby slid out of her seat and began to walk to some woman calling for a waitress. “Go take your boyfriend a treat. He’s working hard too. Victor said he is not even taking breaks.”

The word boyfriend was not originally part of Emma’s vocabulary, but after hearing conversations between the patrons and wait staff, she was beginning to understand. The thought always seemed a bit odd, but she could see how people would assume that she and Killian had that sort of relationship. “I’m not sure he’d appreciate the gesture,” Emma said. Killian had not become the biggest fan of the food in Storybrooke. He usually remained quite suspicious and his nose would wrinkle as anything new was added in front of them.

Ruby was just feet from the table that needed her assistance when she spun around, her dark hair flying wildly. “Emma,” she said with exasperation. “Have you met him? You could give him an empty wrapper from a hamburger and he’d look at you like you just gave him the moon. This is not an issue up for debate. As your boss, I’m telling you. Go visit Killian at work and bring him something from the diner. You’ll thank me later.”

Emma laughed at the woman’s last sentence, knowing that Red certainly would expect a detailed report. She was always hinting and asking about everything from which side of the bed they each preferred to more intimate details. At home there were always whispered details of such things, but Ruby was very open and blunt about her interest. “It’s just girl talk,” she had said to Emma on more than one occasion.

“I really don’t think I should,” Emma said, looking up at the glowing clock above the counter. “You know the next crowd will arrive shortly. You’ll need help.”

“I can handle it,” Ruby said, holding up her hand to signal she needed a moment to the customers at the table. “Quit making excuses and head over there.”

Emma grabbed one of the warm cookies that the kitchen staff had just prepared and headed toward the door. There was no convincing Ruby that she was wrong, so the easiest thing to do was just play along with it. One got nowhere being argumentative, Snow used to tell her daughter. One was better off proving a point than arguing it incessantly.

***AAA***

Killian had faced many an enemy and battle on the open seas with his brother, always up for any challenge that faced him. He’d steadied a ship during the worst of storms, repaired sails with less than ideal thread and a bent needle, and tackled men half again his size to prevent them from doing more harm. However, the computer on the desk in front of him presented the most vexing challenge in his life.

Victor had shown him how to enter the information, patiently demonstrated a few keystrokes and then left him on his own. So far Killian had managed to put the computer to sleep, turned off the monitor and found that the keys were in no order he’d ever seen.

So when Emma arrived with a cookie for him, she stood in the doorway and took in the sight of him for a moment. She would have been just as confused, she admitted to herself. But to see him running a hand through his hair that refused to lay flat and cursing under his breath was a fun sight to her.

“That looks like the box with the moving pictures and sounds,” she said, staring at the computer screen. “Is it the same?”

“I bloody well don’t know,” Killian spat out angrily. “The good doctor wishes for me to input data. I have no idea how one should go about such a task.”

Emma chewed her lip as she stared at the stack of brightly colored files and the screen. “Let’s think about this carefully,” she said, sounding every bit the voice of reason that he tried to sound with her the night before. “Input sounds a bit little bit like you should put something into something. I’m guessing from your stack here that you are to put these into that machine there.”

“I have gathered that much,” he said, attempting to smooth down his hair. “I have no idea how…”

“A step at a time,” she said, remembering what Granny had told her when she could not seem to operate the cash register one morning. “Do you know what you’re are to input?”

“Names and ages,” he said. “Then it is supposed to tell me a number and I am to write that down on the paper next to the name.”

Emma nodded, chewing at her lip again. “The machine talks?” she asked, suddenly distracted with idea.

“Apparently it sleeps, as well,” Killian answered.

They continued to work through the problem for a few moments longer, figuring out that the keyboard with the unorganized string of letters was probably key in the process. Finally, Killian was on his way with the task and Emma smiled on proudly. “I almost forgot,” she said after he had finished about 20 of the files. “I brought you a cookie.”

He raised his eyebrows suspiciously. “You are bringing me a gift, Emma,” he teased gently. “I should think you were above that?”

“Don’t assume anything based on a free cookie,” she laughed. “I was merely paying you a visit. You’re the one who put me to work.”

He laughed. “Well, if you are agreeable to it, I have another task that seems to have left me perplexed.” He lifted a small silver colored camera and held it out to her. “I assume that is one of those devices that makes the instant portraits. I am to use that to make these instant portraits of the patients who have yet to be identified.”

“It’s called a camera,” she said proudly, holding it properly to show him. “Red loves these things. She takes what she calls…selfies.” She patiently explained to him what buttons to push and how to make the device work. After a few practice shots, he assured her that he was ready to go.

“Thank you for your visit and the cookie,” he said as she gathered herself to leave. “It was a nice distraction.”

She smiled, dropping her eyes down a bit. “I’m glad I came to see you.” She raised onto her toes and gently laid her lips against his.

He didn't move. He was afraid that if he did he would break the spell, or wake up from this dream, as she had been more than a little skittish since they had arrived in Storybrooke. When Emma didn't pull back, he gently deepened the kiss, giving her time to get used to this. He lifted his hand and cupped the back of her head pulling her even closer. His other hand moving along her back and side, eliciting a moan from her. Slow down, Killian, he told himself. She was driving him crazy with her sighs and moans. Go easy, she'll spook, he tried to remind himself. Not to mention he was at work and not really in a place to do such things. He deepened the kiss again, invading her mouth with his tongue. When she tangled her own tongue with his, he almost lost control.

Pulling back from her, he tried to read the hooded eyes looking back at him. “Emma,” he said. “I…I need to get back to this…”

She nodded, spell broken, and smiled back at him. “I didn’t mean to distract you from your duty,” she said. “I’m glad you enjoyed the cookie though.”

***AAA***

The large where the patients resided was referred to as the long term critical care unit, but Killian did not remember that phrase as he made his way into the dimly lit area. It was not the sight of the men and women in their beds with tubes and monitors that bothered him. Instead, it was the noises of hissing and beeping machines that made him uneasy as he followed the list and map that one of the nurses had provided.

He clicked the camera buttons like a professional. It seemed like an invasion of privacy to photograph the patients as they slept, but Victor had explained it was necessary. They were nameless and as of now without family and friends to identify them. The photos could be used rather than taking those in search of loved ones on the long trek through the room.

They made for easy subjects, he thought, as they never moved or blurred the picture. However, the unease of the room and the general unease of the situation made Killian more than a little anxious. Standing near the nurse’s station in the room, he was snapping a photo when the loud jangle of the phone rang out. Killian nearly dropped the camera in the process.

“I feel bad for them,” the nurse spoke from her desk, hanging up the phone. “Nobody cares about them. If they did, they would come find them, you know.”

“Perhaps they are not aware their loved ones are here,” Killian suggested, not wanting to think about the fate of his own brother. What had become of Liam and the rest of the crew? Had they recovered? Perished? Been taken by the curse?

“It is terrible for anyone to be alone in the world,” the nurse said, her brow creased. “I would think that having a familiar touch or hearing a familiar voice would work wonders in some of these cases.”

Killian looked at the woman in the bed in front of him, her features serene as if it was just a simple nap. “What of the recovered?” he asked. “Do they know who they are or where to find their families?”

The nurse appeared startled by the question. “None have woken up or recovered since I’ve been here,” she said plainly. “I can’t recall a single…” The woman looked up as her name came crackling through the intercom. “I have to go,” she added apologetically. “Good luck with this project. I’m sure they would be grateful to find out they had family who loved them.”

Another nurse took the younger one’s place, her demeanor much more militant and less talkative. Killian offered her a curt nod and moved on down the line of the rows of beds. The mundane nature of the work was not good for a man who had plenty on his mind. He could still taste Emma on his lips and breathe in the soft fruit like scent of the soap at Granny’s. Fighting against the smile that always seemed to form at the thought of her, he moved to the next bed and took another photo.

He’d be lying to say he didn’t think and remember the night in the cave with every waking moment. He’d memorized her, evoked every detail of her body whenever he closed his eyes. However, he’d done nothing to repeat the experience since landing in Storybrooke. They slept side by side in a bed that seemed too small at times. He’d practically broken bones stopping himself from touching her, holding her in the middle of the night. Her hair would tickle his skin, her laughter shaking the bed as they discussed some facet of their day. She’d complained over the skirt she had to wear, but he felt a physical pain in watching her in that outfit – knowing that he’d once been with her and held her tight against him. All he could think about was doing that again.

He was almost to the end of that row when he recognized the thin lipped face of Howell, the man who had briefly taken the job of watching Emma. Killian’s mind went blank as he stared at the familiar face. “Dr. Whale’s got more for you if you hurry up,” the gruff woman said from the desk. “In other words, shake a leg.”

Killian said nothing, snapping the photo and moving to the next. Again it was a familiar face from the crew. He glanced down the row, this time with wonder instead of dread over the task. His crew was there, all sleeping under the artificial lights and all alive. “Liam,” he said softly. The woman was watching him so he dared not to skip any of the patients, so he hurriedly snapped the photos and made a mental note of all the ones he recognized. The second and last row as next. His hope dimmed as the familiar faces blended together and there was not the most familiar. There were no signs of the curly hair and similarly structured face. He saw none with the scar from when Killian had thrown a rock to show that he was not too little to hit the sign over the local tavern. Their father had been in there that day and left the two boys in the street to play as he drank away that week’s earnings. Some of the older boys had started a game with Liam, trying to hit just inside the circle of the O on the sign. They’d all said that Killian was too young to do it. Not one to back down from a dare, the young Killian hoisted the rock into the air and sliced his brother’s forehead. Now all that remained of that moment was a scar.

It was the last bed where Killian saw his brother, the man perfectly stoic even in this forsaken place. Resisting the urge to reach out to the man who had helped to raise him, Killian snapped the photo and tried to pretend there was nothing different about this patient than any of the others.

“Aren’t you done?” the woman asked, a crossness to her voice was not to be belittled. “You’ve still got the one in isolation over there.”

Killian reluctantly tore his eyes from Liam’s form and drug himself into the glass portioned room, stopping at the foot of his brother’s bed on the way. “I’m going to help you, Liam. I swear to you I am.” The nurse was not going to stand for more of his wasted time so he hurried the final few steps and felt the familiar clench of his stomach as he stared at the unconscious face of Emma’s father.

 ** _A/N: Thank you again to everyone who is reading. This fic has become my little escape from a very stressful job, a family that always needs something, and waiting to hear if I move on to the next phase of a contest I entered for writing a television show._** **_I promise there will be more hijinks and drama as the fic goes on. In the next chapter I’m going to have a little time for Emma and Mary Margaret to have some fun with Ruby. In addition, we’ll see what Rumple is up to and why he has an eye on the two newcomers to town._**


	18. Chapter 18

**_A/N: You have all been so kind with the reviews and follows – can’t believe 100 of you are following this story. This chapter will clear up some things and will also introduce some new questions._ **

The sun was setting behind him as he walked toward the waterfront area. In the days that they had been in Storybrooke, he had yet to make his way to the harbor. From what most people had said there were few active places on the water this time of year. Most people took to the water only in the summer, leaving the boats and ships winterized and abandoned for the harshest months. The weather was starting to warm, but there was no respite from the harsh wind near the water.

Just the smell of the water helped Killian to think, reminding him of his childhood home and his days at sea. That fresh and salty air bit at his nose in a playful way, whispering memories to him that seemed littered with both good and bad thoughts. However, more than anything all he could think about was how to tell Emma that he thought he’d seen her father.

Emma should know that her father might be alive, he thought, shoving his hands into the denim pockets of his pants. She would know if the man in that bed was her father, but doubted that she would know much more than he did about how to return the men and women back to the land of the living.

Killian had stared at the man in the bed, his legs unsteady as he tried to remember some distinguishing detail of Emma’s father. There was no doubt this man was similar in height and weight, his hair the same shade and face very much like Emma’s structure. However, Killian had only seen her father for a few moments and the most he could be sure about was that this man looked something like Emma.

Kicking a stone on the path, Killian groaned. He should be thinking about his own brother. Seeing the man he’d looked up to all his life so still and quiet was troubling. He’d heard of sleeping curses before, but there were so many people in that sick ward or whatever it was called that Killian was unsure if it was possible to put that many men and women under one at the same time. Was this the result of whatever illness had befallen them on the ship? He was not sure.

He wanted to talk over the possibilities with Emma, hear her voice being one of reason and sanity. She did that for him, offered him a quiet dignity when he wanted to charge ahead. He had to admit he was proud of her. She was adjusting much better than he in this new place. While he was used to working and taking orders, she was made to be a pampered and sheltered woman of leisure. So the fact that she willingly worked, sacrificed, and did so without complaining was one of the most endearing things about the woman. Not that he was keeping a list or anything.

There was no way he could bother her with any of that information at that moment, as he knew she was currently spending the evening with the woman she knew was her mother and Ruby. She’d been so excited when she told him that her mother had suggested a girls’ night that Killian couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. She only had a few clothing items, but she had mixed and matched them until she found exactly what she wanted to wear. Then she’d asked him if he thought her mother would like her in the casual outfit.

“How could she not love you?” he had asked softly. “She may be under a curse right now, but her heart will still beat for her only daughter.” It was a vulnerable moment of honesty that had earned him a tight hug of gratitude from her.

***AAA***

Emma’s face was one of pure joy as she listened to her mother and Red have a conversation about some television show that they both liked to watch. She might not have known what show it was or what exactly a television show was, but she was thrilled just to hear the familiar voices tinged with laughter. She could still hear her mother and Red having a similar conversation years ago. Emma had been about 10 and her mother was joking that she had tried to think up another name for herself, settling on the name Frosty at the spur of the moment. Red had teased that Snow was a horrible liar and not very quick witted that day.

“That woman practically threw the rose back in the guy’s face,” Mary Margaret said indigently. “She’s an idiot. He’s a catch.”

“I think it’s different in other cities,” Ruby mused, using her beer bottle to point at both of the other women. “More options lets women be pickier. I want to be picky.”

The short haired brunette found Ruby’s statement to be uproariously funny. “Ruby, you’re not at all picky. That’s your problem. You not only attract the guys, you keep them coming back for more.”

Ruby preened a bit, looking very pleased with herself. “You’re jealous,” she said gleefully. “You want to be just like me.”

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes, turning her gaze to focus on Emma. “What about you?” she asked. “Aren’t you tired of Ruby’s bragging and escapades? We can’t have a normal dinner like regular women.”

The waitress stuck her tongue out through her painted lips. “Jealous,” she said. “We watched Sex and the City and you realized you’re totally a Charlotte and I’m a Samantha. That’s life. You don’t have the confidence to be a Samantha.”

“I’m confident,” Mary Margaret protested. “I am.”

Ruby’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Are you?” she asked, “Are you really?”

Trying her best to look defiant, Mary Margaret squared off her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I am.”

“Then let’s make a bet,” Ruby declared, excitedly scanning the entirety of the diner. “Who haven’t you slept with yet who’d be a good one?” She tapped a lacquered nail on the table top. Grinning, the woman turned to Emma. “Can she borrow Killian? That’d knock the school marm thing right out of her.”

Emma’s eyes flew open in surprise at that statement. “Killian?” she stuttered.

“Oh please,” Mary Margaret said in exasperation, “I hardly think Emma’s going to loan me her boyfriend so I can prove a point to you. That’s just crazy.”

Ruby huffed, folding her arms over her chest. “You two are no fun. If it wasn’t for that pizza that’s baking in the back. I’d totally leave you two and find some fun someplace else.”

“And where would you go?” Mary Margaret demanded. “Don’t give Emma a false hope that there is a social life around here. We have miner’s day, a dive bar, and this diner. After that you’re out of luck.” The teacher slipped out of her cardigan, revealing a soft floral print dress. Noticing Emma looking at the material, she smiled.

“I got it at Modern Fashion,” Mary Margaret said, pointing toward the window. “It’s just across the street and pretty reasonably priced.”

“It’s pretty,” Emma said, trying to think of the words to use. The dress was flattering to the woman, but it was so different from the way Emma was used to seeing her mother dress in such a way. It was far from a revealing outfit, those were more Ruby’s style. Instead it was a simple dress that had a fabric belt that tied around her waist.

“Storybrooke’s not big on fashion,” Ruby chimed in scornfully.

Ignoring her friend, Mary Margaret tilted her head in a very familiar way and smiled. “If you ever want to shop, I’d be happy to go with you. We could pick out something for a date night with your boyfriend. Something that will knock him out when he sees you.”

Emma smiled, looking down at her half-full glass. “I’d like that,” she said, thinking more about spending time with her mother than wearing something to impress Killian.

“Storybrooke’s not big on great date locales either,” Ruby said. “There’s nothing in this town.

“Quit complaining so much,” Mary Margaret admonished. “You’re going to scare Emma off and she’ll be on the first bus out of here.”

“Fine,” Ruby said, taking a sip of her beer. “But if I can’t complain and we can’t talk about men…what do we talk about?”

Again the teacher rolled her eyes and turned her gaze back to Emma. “I want to hear more about Emma. I swear. I don’t know anyone who’s from out of town. Where are you from? How did you get here?”

Emma blanched at the questions, her fractured smile trying to hide the fear. Her lightly colored eyes darted down and away from her mother’s curious look. “I’m from…” she glanced at the newspaper there in front of Ruby, an advertisement clearly showing. “Boston.” She borrowed the name of the city from the ad for a baked bean company.

“Oh wow,” Mary Margaret said, sticking the straw for her soda between her lips. “You don’t even have an accent from there. That’s cool though.”

“So why Storybrooke?” Ruby said, stopping her pouting to join in the questions. Curiosity was winning over glowering. “I mean of all the places.”

Emma smiled a bit weakly and folded her hands in front of her. “I suppose it chose us. We just ended up here.”

***AAA***

Killian reached the docks before he realized it, the water beating against the pilings and giving that sensation of movement as he crossed along the wooden planks. There were a ton of boats, each modern and outfitted with technology that Killian had never seen. He had to admit that he missed the open seas, the simplicity, the order, and the feeling that nothing could stop him as the water carried him to a new destination.

This world had its benefits, he could admit. Running water inside, electricity, and other modern conveniences were certainly perks. But it was strange place that seemed oddly out of balance with his sensibilities. He wanted to like it, to fit in with the people there. Perhaps if he did, Emma would see him as more…

He shook his head. It didn’t matter how she saw him. One day she would break the curse that plagued the town. She would have her family, her kingdom, and her crown. He’d fight for her to have all that, to find her way back home, but he knew there was no place for him in that life. So he would be at odds with himself, fighting for the something that would never give him happiness.

He ran a frustrated hand over his face and stared out at the dimming light. What he would not give to sail away into that light, to take her away from all this and start over wherever they landed. He could…

The squealing sounds of a baby wanting something that his mother obviously was withholding shook Killian out of his reverie. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the Evil Queen approaching. He’d seen her from a distance before at some royal gathering or when she had been on hand to christen a ship. Her dark features always looked harsh to him, removed from the kindness that seemed natural on Emma and her parents.

From what Emma had said, the queen was the mayor of the town of Storybrooke, still ruling with an iron fist. So to see her with a plump baby in her arms was not an expected sight. The baby, presumably a boy in a blue sleeper with a matching hat, was red face and fussing as his tiny hands fisted her black pants suit. She was rubbing his back, talking to him in a low voice that Killian could not quite discern.

He almost bowed and called her by her title, but remembered that was not customary in Storybrooke. He watched for another moment, trying to determine if he saw any recognition in her eyes. Emma had been sure that the woman was responsible for the curse, but he could not quite put together how that might be true. Why would she curse herself? Did she know who everyone was? Was she the key to their answers?

When her eyes met his, she looked startled. “I didn’t expect anyone to be down here right now,” she admitted, shifting the baby in her arms.

“I just came to think,” he said, not sure what answer she was expecting.

Her disinterested nod told him that she did not care to engaged in a conversation. “I see,” she said.

“I didn’t realize you had a child,” he continued, trying to grasp the full situation. He’d seen her last just a few months before he met Emma. She had clearly not been with child then. So where had the child come from?

She looked as if to tell him that it was none of his business. “My son is not someone I put on public display,” she said bitingly. “So I don’t see it as anyone’s business to know of my son.”

The young lad’s head turned in mid-wail and Killian caught a glimpse of his cherub face and the blonde wisps of hair that were not covered by the blue over his crown. He took a sharp intake of breath, feeling oddly familiar with the sight of the boy. He had Emma’s eyes and her same chin. Killian knew that Regina was not a blood relative of Emma’s, but the similarities between the two faces were remarkable. It also served to remind him that the man he had seen earlier was just as familiar to him.

Regina was thankfully not aware of his thoughts and continued to study him. “You’re that man who came here with that Emma woman,” she said, her words chipped and not all that friendly. “I make it a point to know everyone in this town.”

“I’m sure you do,” Killian muttered. “Yes, I am the one who arrived recently with Emma.”

He noticed the flash in her eyes as he mentioned the name.

***AAA***

Emma was sitting with her mother and Ruby when he arrived back at the diner, her laughter and smiles much more natural now. He could have watched her like that for longer, seen her steal glances at her mother that were a mixture of hope and remorse. She was eating what Ruby called a fry, a potato that was long and thing with something of melted cheese over the top. She delicately held it between her fingers and nibbled as Ruby animatedly told some story that had both Emma and her mother laughing.

Loathe to interrupt the mother and daughter moment, Killian attempted to slip past the table and head to the stairs in the back, but he should have known that Ruby would spot him. His name echoed across the room.

To her credit, Emma did not appear dismayed to see him. Her eyes lit up more as he smiled and gave a shy wave to the three ladies. However, it was Ruby who invited him over and Mary Margaret who pointed out the empty seat at the table.

“I don’t wish to intrude,” he said, glancing at Emma’s face. She merely shook her head.

“You’re not,” Ruby insisted, motioning for one of the waitresses who only worked evenings to bring him a beer. He might have protested, but Ruby was not one to take an argument. “I’ve been trying to get Emma to tell us more about you, but she’s not good at this whole gossip thing.”

Mary Margaret laughed again, her face scrunching up like her daughter’s. “Unless you write your own autobiography, complete with photos and video of every moment, Ruby’s never going to think it is enough,” she teased. “But you have a pretty great girlfriend here so I think you must be an okay guy.”

Emma blushed a bit, not looking at any of her tablemates. “You have to excuse their bluntness, Killian,” she said, brushing her hand against his. “They seem to be getting worse the more they drink.”

Ruby laughed, but Mary Margaret attempted to protest. “I had one drink and then it’s been nothing but soda. I’m not the one trying to get drunk.”

Killian found that he did not have much to say to the women, but that did not deter their conversation. Ruby and Mary Margaret had an easy going nature to their talks, finishing each other’s sentences and managing to laugh and torment each other with private jokes. They did their best to include Emma, even making some comments that Killian was not sure what they meant.

“I’m glad you joined us,” Emma said as they climbed up the stairs. “It’s hard to sit and pretend that I know everything they are saying. You felt like an ally.” She paused on the step and looked at him. “You’re always that way with me. You’ve become my advocate whether it was to your brother or downstairs convincing Ruby that I…”

Killian dipped his head a bit and shook his head. “We need to talk, love,” he said quickly. “I don’t wish to interrupt you, but there are things you need to know.”

***AAA***

The bell on the door of the town’s pawn shop clanged jarringly, but the shop’s proprietor barely looked up from examining the watch in his hand. He’d been expecting her, knowing that she would seek him out as soon as she could gather the strength to face him.

“You’ve met her,” he said when Regina stepped up to the counter. He did not bother with pleasantries because Regina did not abide by wasting time on such things.

Regina sneered at Mr. Gold, her expression showing annoyance. “You said we had a few years before she could even get here.”

“Things change, dearie,” he said, laying the watch down in front of her. “That’s the funny thing about time. It can move much more rapidly than we expect or it can feel as though it has stopped for all eternity. Time isn’t something that really exists, you know? It is an arbitrary phenomenon that man has created to exert control over his life.”

“I didn’t come for a lesson in science or philosophy,” she said, pursing her lips together. “I want to know why she is here now.”

“To break the curse,” he said simply. “What other reason would there be?”

Regina looked over the table and the shelves behind him. Each item containing a memory of someone in the town that had been forgotten and erased. “She brought someone with her. That’s dangerous.”

“She’s dangerous,” the man said matter of factly. “I know you’ve been aware of her abilities before, but they are more now. She opened a portal with no assistance from any magical element. You do realize the significance of that.”

“How did she do that?” Regina asked, staring harshly. “My mother was one of the most…”

“True love, my dear,” Gold answered. “It can make even the most pathetic of magic stronger. So imagine what it can do to a power as raw and natural as hers?”

“True love? You mean Emma and the sailor?”

“Of course,” Gold answered. “She doesn’t even realize her power though. That’s your saving grace, your majesty. She has no clue that she already possesses the ability to destroy this curse and you along with it.”

**_A/N: I hope that I didn’t jump around too much in this chapter. Let me know what you think. Who do you think that the baby is?_ **


	19. Chapter 19

Emma’s jaw hurt from hanging open as Killian explained all of his news to her, her hand actually reaching up to rub at the joint. He was not trying to shock her, as he said many times. But with each tidbit about her father, his brother, Regina having a child, and the rest of the crew, she felt her heart beat faster and the room spin a little bit more.

“What do we do now?” she asked when he finally took a breath and stepped away to fiddle with something called window blinds. “How do we…”

“I don’t know for certain, love,” he said. “I’m almost positive that the man in that glass room is your father. I managed to print one of those instant portraits of him.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the creased paper that was silky against his fingertips. He shoved it in her direction and saw from her face that it was her father. She would not have reacted that way to another man’s form.

“Is he very ill?” she asked, the tremble in her voice matching her hands and body. “Will he…”

“I don’t know,” Killian said, hating that lack of knowledge was not comforting to the princess. “I know that the answers are in that box…that computer that you helped me with today. Doctor Whale keeps all the information on each patient in that device.”

She frowned, running her hand over the photograph as though that motion would somehow soothe or heal her father’s ailments. “My mother doesn’t even know he exists,” she said. “My mother thinks that she is all alone in this world and that she has no family or loved ones.”

“It’s the bloody curse,” Killian said with a bit more venom than she was used to hearing from him. “Your grandmother or whoever put together this curse meant for this to happen. It was designed to take away everyone’s happiness, love, and connections. Haven’t you seen? There are no happy families in this town. Everyone is merely existing and waiting on some fantastic thing to happen that will bring them joy.” He backed himself up to sit in the wing back chair.

“I need to see him,” Emma said vehemently. “My mother can’t remember him. He needs someone who does, someone who can care for him and love him.”

Killian sighed. “The room is usually closed off to visitors,” he explained. “Occasionally there are people looking in to see if they recognize anyone there. Maybe there are volunteers too. Your mother’s name was on the list of volunteers, actually. She brings flowers to the patients and sits with them for a while.”

Emma’s eyes flicked up from the photograph and stared at Killian. “My mother has been visiting him?”

“And the other patients,” he said. “I don’t think she knows…”

Emma sighed again, her body tensing again as she stared at the photograph in her hands. “What horrible thing could my parents or any of these people have done to deserve this?” she asked him.

Killian ran his hands to the back of his head and massaged the tense muscles of his neck. “Emma…”

“Oh God,” she moaned. “Your brother. You said Liam was in there too?” She shook her head, dropping the photograph to her side. Reaching out, she meant to grab his hands in hers but with his massaging she placed both palms on his thighs. “I’m not the only one with a family member in that place.”

Killian offered her a wavering smile that she even recognized his own dilemma. “I am happy that he’s alive,” he said. “I know that fact is small consolation when he’s clearly in a dire situation, but to see him and know that there is still a chance for him to survive this is enough right now. It has to be.”

***AAA***

Emma could smell the coffee in the diner from the moment she opened the door to the hallway, warm and much stronger than anything she’d experienced in the Enchanted Forest. The scent meant that it was Granny working that morning and not Ruby, who usually sent someone else to fiddle with the temperamental brewer. It was just as well, Emma thought, as Granny seemed less questioning than Ruby.

“Good morning,” the Widow Lucas said as she began the morning task of counting out the silverware and wrapping bundles in paper napkins. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Emma admitted as she scooted up onto one of the barstools and began to help in the process. She can admit to herself that was not a lie. She had not slept, closing her eyes and consciously controlling her breathing so that Killian might assume that she was engaged in slumber.

“That’s either the sign of trouble or a guilty conscience,” Granny said wisely. “Which is it for you?”

Emma could remember the older woman from her childhood, sitting on her knee as Granny told stories of the ogre wars and the great and valiant knights who fought alongside the commoners to return the kingdom to safety. Gruff even then, Emma knew that Granny had a warm heart. She was the woman who snuck her pastries and candies when nobody was looking. She used to play games with her that others would have deemed too rough for a little girl. “A lot on my mind,” she admitted, knowing that Granny was not as likely to pry as Ruby.

The older woman nodded knowingly. “Well,” the woman said, tossing another of the silverware bundles into the basket. “That is usually one of three things. Work trouble, family trouble, or man trouble. I know your job so it isn’t work trouble. You’re a fine employee and try your best. You haven’t mentioned any family so I don’t think it is that. That leaves man trouble. So what is troubling you about the man sleeping upstairs?”

Emma laughed nervously, closing the sticky paper over the napkin as Granny had taught her. “It isn’t Killian,” she said. “It’s…I’m trying to find a way to find out about a patient at the hospital. I think I might know him.”

Granny did not seem that thrown by the statement. “I take it that you don’t want to do the straight forward approach. You know, just ask about him.”

“I can’t,” Emma said, hoping that she was right in trusting the older woman. She needed help, needed to know how to navigate this path. She felt that whatever the answer to solving the curse was rested in her father. Finding out what was wrong with him was the tip of the iceberg.

“Then someone who works at the hospital would be your best bet,” the woman said matter of factly. “You could ask that boyfriend of yours, but I don’t know that he knows that much about the inner workings of that place yet. So your best bet is someone else. I’d suggest someone who doesn’t mind sticking his neck out because what you’re asking about is illegal. You can’t just go getting medical records for random strangers.”

“Someone who works there?” she asked, biting her lip. “Other than Killian and Dr. Whale, I have no idea.”

Granny sighed. “Maybe one of your favorite customers might work there. It’s not glamorous, but he does.” She readjusted one of the napkins and looked up. “Why are you so interested in this patient? He an old lover? A relative?”

Emma was not sure how to answer.

The glasses on Granny’s nose slid down a bit and she forcefully pushed them back in place with her index finger. “It’s none of my business,” she said. “I know that. I’m not as uncouth as Ruby when it comes to prying into people’s private affairs. It’s just that you remind me of someone I once knew.”

Emma’s eyes shot open wide, a smile tugging at her lips. “I do?”

“Yes, myself,” the woman said. “Oh you’re prettier and got a head on you that would probably have served you well at an ivy league school instead of slinging hash in a diner, but there is something in you that is just like me. You’re a fighter. You don’t seem intimidated or out of sorts about anything. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you aren’t all that familiar with things around here. You jump a mile when the microwave beeps. You seem fascinated by most gadgets like you haven’t seen them before in your life. But you don’t let that stop you. I don’t know where you came from or why you have no idea how to use a can opener, but you’re a quick study. Some of these customers intimidate the hell out of our staff, but you don’t let them get to you. I’m impressed with that.”

Emma looked bashfully proud at the compliment. “That’s kind of you to say, especially since you weren’t that thrilled that Ruby brought us in here.”

“It wasn’t personal,” Granny said, grabbing the last of the silverware bundles. “Ruby may be a fast and footloose sort of girl, but she has a big heart. She always wants to help. Sometimes that can get her in trouble.”

“I’m grateful that she does care so much for people in need,” Emma said, lifting the basket to put it next to the menus. “Killian and I would have been very lost without her.”

Their conversation was interrupted as Leroy became the first customer of the day. His dark expression was one that Emma had seen so many times growing up, but usually it broke into a bright smile. According to her parents, Leroy had been one of the first to hold her after she was born, declaring then and there that she would be the most beautiful and accomplished princess in any kingdom. When men began to call upon the palace to see about courting the young royal in her teen years, it was Leroy who stood at her father’s side and vetted each of them.

“Two eggs scrambled, bacon extra crispy, and toast,” he barked as he brushed off the menu that Emma attempted to hand him. “Coffee black.”

She’d already written the order down on the tiny green and white pad that she carried in her apron pocket. But she knew that Leroy would have balked if she did not give him the opportunity to push that menu away. Granny was already pouring the dark liquid into one of the cups and passing it over to the grumpy dwarf.

“Good morning, Leroy,” she said with her characteristic bite.

“What’s good about it?” he asked, burying his nose in the want ad section of the newspaper. He was always telling anyone who would listen that he was looking for another job. He coveted that newspaper that was sold just outside the front door of the diner, snarling at anyone who asked about borrowing a section or tried to read over his shoulder.

Emma delivered the still hot plate to him, standing there a second longer than she usually did. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise that she had stuck around. “Can I do something for you?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You work at the hospital, correct?”

He took a bite of his toast and used his hand to wipe away the crumbs from his beard. “You need to be examined?”

She resisted the urge to slap him and tell him that in another place and time he was like her uncle. Instead she just gave him a half-hearted grin. “I need some information.”

He placed the toast on the edge of his plate. “Your boyfriend works there too. He’s probably got more information than a guy who sweeps the floors and changes bed sheets.”

She ignored that for a moment and sat on the stool next to him, resting her chin on her folded hands. “I need to know how to get into the patient files,” she said. “You’re my best hope for that because you’re the type to bend those lines sometimes.”

***AAA***

Emma stood very still, her breathing as shallow as she could make it and her eyes primed to see anything that might help her. This was not her finest idea, Killian had told her when she insisted that she had to know what was wrong with her father and Liam. He’d offered to find the results for her, beg Dr. Whale if he had to do it, but she was determined.

“It is my job,” she said. “I’ll look on that computer thing at your desk. You just keep everyone away.”

He’d opened his mouth to protest, but she was not hearing any of his comments. “I can do this,” she said. “It’s a waste of time for you to offer because that means we’ll have to wait longer for answers. I’m going to do this.”

So that left her in the supply closet next to where Killian did most of the paperwork, waiting on him to carefully extract any possible witnesses from the scene. His head was bent over some sort of colorful chart, his hair messily laid across his head with tiny tufts refusing to cooperate. He needed a haircut, she thought to herself as he ran a finger along the chart and made a note on another page. She had no idea what his work consisted of and had not really asked him. She vowed to correct that as soon as she was back at Granny’s, as he was always listening to her stories of the day.

“Dr. Whale,” Killian said as the light haired man stepped into the little alcove where Killian worked. “I needed to ask you a question.”

She did not hear the doctor’s response as Killian was led away and the room remained empty. Emma slid out from her spot and stared at the formidable machine. Granny might have been right that she was not easily intimidated, but the sheer magnitude of the technology in the realm of Storybrooke was daunting for anyone. It did not take long though until she was printing out just the report she wanted and her fingers clumsily typing out the details for the other. Folding both reports and shoving them into her jacket.

The plan was for her to slip out of the hospital with as little attention drawn to her as possible. She made her way past the vending machines and the plastic chairs of the waiting room. The elevator was just to her left and the doors out to the parking lot were in front of her. Emma took a step toward the doors and stuttered to a stop. She wanted to see him, to hold her father’s hand if only for a second and tell him that she was there. She wanted him to know that she would stop at nothing to make sure that he was back with her mom and healthy soon.

So with a second’s thought, she jammed her hand against the up arrow outside the bank of elevators – just as she had seen others do. Pretending that she knew what she was doing and where she was going, Emma pushed forward and slid in behind a hospital employee into the quiet unit where the coma patients slept. She paused at Liam’s bed, bowing her head in a sign of respect when she heard the voice behind her.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

_**A/N: I didn't mean to leave it on a cliff hanger, but mommy duty calls. I promise a good update soon with some more familiar characters.**  _

**_Let me know what you're thinking and how you think Emma can get out of this one._ **


	20. Chapter 20

**_A/N: Happy Once Day everyone! Here is another update. I struggled writing part of this chapter, but I think it came out okay. Plus I got a chance to write technology vs. Killian and a little twist on the way things happened in Season 1._ **

**_In response to a question about ages. I haven’t been specific on that for a reason. That and Emma’s magic are about to be discussed in a future chapter._ **

Killian heard nothing of the commotion on the second floor until after it was over. He had been too busy trying to distract Dr. Whale and figure out the biggest mystery of Storybrooke – how to get hot coffee out of the vending machine. He’d observed others doing it, feeding silver coins into the machine and walking away with a tiny foam cup that steamed with the warmness of the coffee.

In the Enchanted Forest, everyone, including Killian, had used gold coins to buy everything. There were no such machines to insert them into, but the concept of coinage was not wholly unfamiliar. Killian had felt a similar confusion when Dr. Whale had sent him to the pharmacy for some items. The plethora of items was so overwhelming; and the fact that the prices were set was too good to be true. There was no negotiating and bartering. You simply purchased your items and were on your way. If you did not have enough money, then you did not purchase them.

He was smiling smugly at the machine and listening to the successful hiss as his coffee streamed into the tiny cup when Ruby rounded the corner. The red streaks in her hair were more prominent against the white of her jacket and her face was just as red with the flush of exertion at tracking him down.

“Killian,” she said, tugging on his arm roughly. “You have to come with me.”

Her hand wrapped around his elbow as she pulled him past the handful of waiting visitors in the waiting area. She offered no explanations and did not even look at him as she dragged him into the parking lot. “Granny’s over there,” she said, pointing at a large sedan that was mostly blue except the rust colored passenger door. “She’s going to take you back to the bed and breakfast. Don’t say anything to anyone. Especially don’t admit that you knew Emma was here today.”

“Ruby, you are not making sense,” he said, staring at the impatient face of Granny. “What is going on here?”

“Emma was caught,” Ruby said. “Someone tipped off the sheriff and she’s been arrested. I’m going to see what I can do, but we don’t need for them to figure out that you knew too.” Her voice was low, a firm whisper as she pushed him toward the older woman’s car. “Go, get something to drink, read a book, and pretend you know nothing. I’m going to take care of this.”

“Ruby, I’m not abandoning her when…

“For God’s sake Killian,” Ruby said, pushing his shoulder again. “I’ve got this.”

He was not sure he even knew where the jail or guardhouse is even located, but he did know that Granny had no intention of letting him barge in to demand her release. “Ruby’s got this,” she told him. “You don’t have the money to bail Emma out, but Ruby has a plan.”

Sitting and doing nothing was not something he was good at doing. So when Granny deposited him at his room and made him swear that he would not disappear in search of his lost princess, he paced for a good 15 minutes trying to formulate a plan. In that time he realized that he had been stupid to have let her risk so much on her own. He should have been the one to look for the results, the one who risked his own self to find the answers they needed.

His feet kicked his pants that had fallen off the back of the chair and he frowned. Emma had told him of the machines downstairs that would clean his clothing. She had marveled over them, telling him that if the staff of the palace had such machines back in the Enchanted Forest that it would have made their lots in life so much easier. It seemed like such a simple gesture, but he was low on ideas as he paced and waited for word of Ruby’s plan and Emma’s fate. So he gathered both of their clothes and carried them downstairs.

Four machines stood in a row, two washers and two dryers. However, he saw no formal instructions, only signs saying to not remove someone else’s clothes and not to overfill the machines. He frowned as he looked at the dials with their strange sounding instructions of delicates, normal, permanent press, and others. He wasn’t fully inept at laundry, as he’d used a scrub board and bucket for his years in the Navy.

“Your girlfriend is in jail and you are going to do laundry?” Granny said, moving a mop bucket back into place in the corner. Her stern face inspected his. “Have you ever done laundry before?”

“No, I…”

“Didn’t think so,” she said, pulling the clothing from him one item at a time. “You have to separate them. Darks in one pile and light in another. Do you have detergent?” His blank expression answered her question. “Here,” she said, reaching in her apron pocket for some coins. “There’s a machine over there. Get the blue bottle. It’s the best one. You’ll need fabric softener too. I’d go with the pink if you’re man enough.”

He followed the woman’s directions and even laughed a bit as the machine roared to life on his first try. While he wasn’t breaking down doors or staging escapes, at least Emma would come back to clean clothes. That was a start.

***AAA***

When her mother had described the huntsman who saved her, refused to give her up to the Evil Queen, Snow had talked of his kind eyes and the way he seemed to beg forgiveness without saying a word. Emma felt the same sensation as Sheriff Graham fingerprinted and photographed her during her booking.

“It’s not smart to make enemies of the mayor,” he said in a conspiratorial tone. “That woman is not one for losing a battle, let alone a war.”

“She shouldn’t want me as an enemy either,” Emma answered, refusing to appear weak in front of him. “But what does she have to do with this?”

He cocked his eyebrow at her and sighed when it became apparent that the blonde woman was not just playing dumb. “Regina is the one who received a phone call that someone breeched the computer system at the hospital.” He continued to tell her that it wasn’t much of a security system anyway and that she was a weak hacker given that she had not removed herself from the scene immediately.

“Maybe that’s because I’m not a hacker,” she said, trying out the word herself.

“A pretty horrible one if you are,” the man said, turning from where he’d left her in the jail cell and returning to his desk.

Emma had a soft heart for those who were trapped. She’d always hated to see the men in the prisons of her former kingdom as they were paraded out for exercise or for an audience with her step grandmother. She’d once tried to sneak food down to some of the prisoners, but that had resulted in the one and only time her parents had punished her severely.

The sound of the cell door closing behind her and the lack of air even though it had not changed at all were enough to make her chest tighten in fear and anxiety. Graham, the sheriff, was not an unfamiliar face to her. He’d rescued her mother, worked for her step grandmother, and had certain reputation as more humanitarian than callous. He’d stalled as long as he could, but eventually booked her and let her sit in the only unoccupied cell in the jail.

“I’m sorry about this,” he said apologetically. “I’m sure something can be worked out.”

She sat on the cot, her arms wrapped around herself and her eyes trained at the floor. It was a mistake to have gone to the ward, she told herself. It was a foolish mission that could have screwed up everything that they had been working toward.

“Emma,” the Sheriff said again, his voice soft as he looked toward her. “Is there anyone you want to call?”

She looked up, trying to make sense of the word since calling on someone was a different concept in the Enchanted Forest. “I think not,” she said. “Why don’t you just finish whatever you have to do so I can get out of here?”

He smiled slightly at the way she was trying to sound so tough and prepared. He knew she wasn’t. Anyone could tell that. “I’ll see about the paperwork, but unless someone comes to bail you out…”

“Someone has,” came the familiar voice of her mother. “I’m here about Emma.”

Graham spun a bit, his eyes landing on the teacher who stood in the doorway with the waitress by her side. “You are going to bail her out? Can I ask why?”

Mary Margaret opened her mouth, but Ruby’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Is that part of it, Graham? Do you ask everyone what their reasoning is behind posting bail?”

“No,” he stammered, shoving his hands back into the pockets of his jeans. “I was curious. Can’t blame me for that.” He returned to the desk with Mary Margaret following. Ruby rushed to the bars of the cell.

“You haven’t said anything, have you?” she asked Emma in a hushed tone. “Don’t say a word. Don’t let him intimidate you.” The brunette smiled warmly as though she was offering encouragement. Looking toward the haggard appearing sheriff, she raised her voice. “You haven’t been mistreated, have you? We could sue. I’m sure Mayor Mills would love to spend some of the town’s money paying your back for being mistreated by…”

“It’s fine,” Emma said. “He was just doing his job.” She watches as her mother hands Graham some money out of her purse.

Graham pushed a few buttons on the computer keyboard, filled in a few blanks on a form, and shoved the cash into a locked drawer in his desk. “Looks as though you are free to go,” he said to Emma, lazily reaching for his keys.

Ruby stood next to the locked cell door, her arms folded and her foot tapping impatiently. “You going to call Regina after we’re gone?” she asked the man. “Are you going to tattle that Emma got sprung by a teacher?”

Graham cleared his throat as he tried to fit the key in the lock. “I’m sure you understand that the mayor likes to know everything that goes on in this town. It is her business to make sure it all runs smoothly.”

Mary Margaret gathered Emma’s jacket and was pulling Ruby back as the waitress sneered again. “And you just love to make sure the mayor is happy.”

Emma was a bit speechless, but let herself be pulled into her mother’s arms for a hug. “Thank you,” she muttered to her.

***AAA***

Ruby didn’t even make a joke when she brought Emma in through the side door and Killian had her in his arms so fast that nobody even had a chance to ask how the blonde woman was faring. His head was half buried in her shoulder and hair, his only words something about thanking God and clean laundry.

“Are you hungry?” Granny asked over the commotion. “I could make you up something special.”

Emma pulled back from the embrace to look at the older woman, Killian’s arms still around her waist and her own hands resting on his shoulders. “I was supposed to start my shift about an hour ago,” she admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“I hear your boss can be a real beast, but she’ll get over it this once,” Granny said. “You two head up to your room and I’ll send Ruby up with some food in few minutes. You’ve had quite a day. Get some rest.”

Ruby nods, laughing as Killian complains that the women had deprived him of a dashing rescue. Emma slapped his shoulder playfully and tells him that she’s just glad to be out of that awful jail cell. Following the Lucas women’s advice, the two of them ascend the stairs and retreat into the floral designed room.

“What were you thinking?” Killian asked as soon as the door was shut. “You could have…”

“I wanted to see him,” she said, ignoring the pained expression on his face as she rubbed her wrists as though the handcuffs were still on them. “I needed to see my father.”

He closed his eyes, frustration, fear, and relief strangely merging together inside of him. “I know, Emma,” he said. “Don’t you think I know how it feels? I hate leaving my brother in that place. I hate that I can’t make him wake up and see me, know that he’s fine…”

She opened the door to their bathroom and turned on the hot water in the tub. “Killian, I didn’t think it through properly. I just knew that my father was just above me on that floor and I had to see him. I had to know that he was still alive. It wasn’t about thwarting our plan or doing anything to hurt you. It was about me seeing my father. But I didn’t even get to see him. I was standing at Liam’s bed when they caught me.”

His expression softened. “I do understand, love. I truly do. I would give whatsoever was necessary if I could repair this for you. I might not know what it is like to have a father like yours, but I do know that I only want to see you happy.”

She was reaching for the towels to take her bath, hoping to reclaim a bit of herself with the help of washing away the jail smell from her. His voice sounded so ardent in her ears, so earnest with his desire for her happiness. “What happened to your father?” she asked, turning to face him. “You only said he disappeared.”

Killian had been prepared for many reactions from her, a tantrum, a show of relief, anything but being asked about a man who had abandoned him. “That’s a conversation for when we have more time, love,” he said with a small smile. “Red will be up here in a moment with food. You want a bath. It’s not the time.”

She nodded her head in agreement, but she did not step away from him, instead moving a step closer. Killian's eyes stayed on hers as she moved toward him, raising her soft lips to his. Easy, easy, he told himself, seeing the curiosity racing through her deep stare. Then her lips were on his, the kiss she gave him warm, tentative and giving. His eyes shut, his hands moving down to rest on her hips. She swept her tongue over his bottom lip, tasting, asking a question he had always known the answer to. Groaning, he pulled her closer, their bodies entwining, the warmth of their clothed skin melting them together. It was a sweet and torturous embrace.

Emma met the slow, gentle thrusts of his tongue with her own, her limbs dissolving against him. He lifted a hand, moving it to fist in her hair, pulling her back and deepening their kiss, the pace still slow. Emma felt her brain begin to shut down, thoughts fading to the back of her mind. She wanted him to touch her, feel her, just as much as she wanted to experience his naked body against her own again.

He was the first to break their kiss. “I won’t be this,” he said softly. “I won’t be a distraction for you.”

She looked confused, even a little hurt. “You’re not,” she protested. “You’re not a distraction, Killian.”

***AAA***

Ruby filled the containers up with her grandmother’s cooking, waving off the woman’s instructions about keeping it level and not letting the sauce from the meatloaf run into the compartment with the potatoes. She sealed down the lids and placed the drinks on top so she could carry everything with her.

“Ruby,” her grandmother said, frowning a bit more than usual.

“Did she stop by?” Ruby didn’t look at her grandmother, but she knew from the tone of the single syllable that there was trouble brewing beyond a criminal incident and Mary Margaret having to shell out money for bail. “Just tell me…”

The older woman huffed as she leaned down to check on whatever what cooking in the stainless steel oven. “The mayor came by and then Mr. Gold,” she said, her voice as unsure as Ruby had ever heard it. “I told her that it wasn’t right. The girl hasn’t been convicted, only charged with a crime, but she didn’t care. If we continue to let her work here, we’re going to lose the license to run this place.” She paused. “And then of course Mr. Gold is offering his legal services to the poor girl. He looked like he was ready to salivate at the idea.”

There was practically a growl in Ruby’s voice as she whipped around. “I don’t trust either of them. Regina or that Mr. Gold. How do we stop Regina though?”

“I don’t know, but we don’t have much choice.” The older woman leaned back. “Let them stay for now. We’ll help her find another job. There has to be something in this town that doesn’t have the mayor’s thumb print all over it.”

***AAA***

Ruby did not want to tell Emma the news and thankfully was spared that when she arrived with the food and found Killian alone in the room. He had quickly pointed out that Emma was bathing and would be out shortly.

“Something’s the matter,” he surmised when Ruby did not offer one of her trademark smiles or jokes. “Something is troubling you.”

She looked at the closed door to the bathroom, wondering if Emma can hear through that door or if she is safe. Then she shook her head, knowing that the conversation needed to happen with Emma and not the man sleeping in her bed. “We’ll talk later,” Ruby said hastily. “We’re a waitress short tonight.”

He looked guiltily at the containers of food and back at Ruby who was backing toward the door. “How much do we owe?” he asked. “I know that you said don’t worry, but…”

She frowned at his question. “We’ll deal with it later,” she said, looking back at the closed bathroom door. “She’s been through a lot today. And from the way she looks sometimes when she thinks nobody is watching, I would say she’s been through a lot already.”

“She’s a tough lass,” he commented. “But nobody is tough enough to withstand every sling and arrow.”

“You care for her?” It wasn’t really a question, but Ruby asked it as one anyway. She knew. She’d seen the way he looked at her, spoke to her and of her. She’d seen the way that he held himself back to let her make a move of any kind. He did not reach for her, waiting on her to clutch to him when she was insecure. Ruby had no doubt about the man’s feelings.

“Aye,” he confirmed, dropping her probing gaze. “I do.”

She did not register any surprise. “Take care of her, Killian,” the woman said. “Do something nice for her that doesn’t involve the two of your whispering and eating bad takeout food. She deserves a little positive attention. She deserves a date.” The woman blindly reached behind her for the door handle. “If you don’t pay her some attention, some other man will be more than willing. Mark my words.”

**_Review?_ **


	21. Chapter 21

**_A/N: I’m sorry this was a little later than normal. I am in the middle of a big project at work that has me running more than normal. I promise the next two chapters should answer some more questions about the curse and the baby, but first we need to get a few things out of the way._ **

Emma hated the idea of letting a tear fall in front of anyone. She not only hated herself for the action, but hated the other person for seeing it. So when Ruby and Granny told her that Regina’s threat meant she could no longer work with them, the woman choked back her tears for as long as she could possibly stand.

“I should expect a similar such talk when I arrive at the hospital?” Killian asked, his hand resting just next to Emma’s.

“Not that I know of,” Ruby said, holding her own cup of coffee in her hands. “Victor assumes that you knew nothing. That’s for the best. You keep pretending that. Act mad if you have to.”

“Mad?” Killian questioned, his eyes not wanting to see Emma crumble, which he knew was only moments away.

“At Emma for betraying your trust and risking your job. Pretend that you’re having a hard time trusting her or something. It will help you look more realistic.” Ruby was very matter of fact about the whole thing, avoiding any dramatic or emotional speeches. “You’re probably going to be late if you don’t leave now, aren’t you?”

Killian looked at the clock over the counter and nodded, his face tight with apprehension. “I should be off,” he said, daring to kiss Emma’s temple before sliding out of the booth. “I will see you this evening?” Emma nodded solemnly and again he was struck by her strength. Thinking of what Ruby had suggested, he added, “Perhaps we could do something tonight? A date?” It’s an odd word, but he knows they both understand the connotation in Storybrooke.

Emma finally looked up from the murky water of her tea, carefully gauging his sincerity. “Killian, I…”

“I’ll let you think about it, love,” he said, brushing aside any of the rejection he might have felt. She’d kissed him, curled her body into his and shown no indication that she was at all regretful of the experience. He was out the door before she could answer again.

“A romantic date might be just the thing that would perk you up,” Granny said, the happy words seemingly odd on her usually bitter tongue. “Now, you go to see Mr. Gold and Ruby and I’ll work on a plan for your future employment.”

“Why would Mr. Gold want to help me?” Emma asked, her voice a bit hoarse from holding back the tears. “Is there…”

Ruby watched her grandmother saunter away to yell at a few of the patrons about leaving too many crumbs on the floor. “He loves to go up against Regina,” Ruby explained. “It is quite a sight when it happens. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Emma smiled politely and moved her cup closer to her on the table. “Ruby, I need to know some things,” she said, holding her breath as she waited for the words to come to her. “You may find me insane to think this way, but can you please answer as forthrightly as you can dare?”

Ruby laughed lightly, sliding toward the middle of the bench now that her grandmother had left. “Emma, you can trust me. You might be a little wacky and talk like you came from a book, but you’re a good girl. I trust you and you should trust me. Now what is it?”

Emma closed her eyes for a moment, picturing the young woman with the deep red cloak who stood at her mother’s side. Red had been her mother’s true friend and confidant for years, dodging swords and protecting the princess from any known or unknown enemy. She’d fought off wizards, villains, and black knights, expecting nothing in return for her efforts. If there was anyone she could trust, Emma knew that it was Red.

“I think there is something strange going on in this town,” Emma said, carefully adding vagueness to her words. When Red didn’t laugh, Emma felt a little stronger. “People aren’t who they seem to be.”

Ruby’s eyes narrowed over her cup and her red lips left a stain. “Honestly that could be any city. People are very rarely who they claim, but you mean something more.”

Emma knew that her tale of all of them being from some enchanted land would not sit well with most sane people. The last thing she needed was to be dragged away. “Regina…the mayor…when did she have a baby?”

Ruby looked a bit surprised. “He’s a few months old, I think,” Ruby said. “I haven’t seen him in a while, but you could probably…”

“I mean, is he hers?” Emma’s eyes were fiery with her questions, holding the other woman’s gaze as if speaking silently to her. “Did she give birth?”

“Wow,” Ruby said, lowering the cup to the saucer on the table. “I haven’t really thought about it. I don’t remember her being pregnant. How strange. I just remember there was the baby.” She chewed thoughtfully on a painted lip. “What…why did you ask that?”

“I don’t know what to make of this whole situation,” Emma admitted. “I know that what I say to you, no matter what it is, is going to make me sound like I have lost control of my senses.” She twisted in her seat to look toward the clock over the counter. “I have to go. Mr. Gold wants me to stop by to talk to him about a defense?”

***AAA***

The small bell echoed in the dark shop as Emma stepped through the door. In all her years growing up, she had been told stories of Rumpelstiltskin, but she had never actually laid eyes on him in the Enchanted Forest. Most of the stories were legends and folk lore, stories designed to scare children into behaving. “Do your lessons or the Dark One will get you,” Emma’s governess used to say. “He is seven feet tall with fangs. His skin glows with his evil ways.”

Having never actually seen him, Emma was not aware enough to make comparisons between the centuries old imp and the pawn broker/lawyer/landlord named Mr. Gold. Still the man was intimidating. He was short in stature, but stood with a quiet elegance of a man of station and money. That certainly made Emma wonder who he was back in their world. He had a knowing look about him and a gnarled grin that spoke of secrets and lies.

“Well, I’m glad to see you decided to take me up on my offer of representation,” he said, lifting a heavy curtain to reveal a small round table and four chairs. He called it his conference room and invited her to take a seat. “I’d ask if you want coffee, but I know that with you staying at Granny’s the coffee there is much better.”

“Thank you,” Emma managed to say, sitting down across from the man.

“I imagine that yesterday was quite frightening for you,” he said, waving a long fingered hand between them. “No one relishes losing their freedom.”

“I did nothing to lose my freedom,” Emma stated. “I was simply trying to help those two patients regain their identities. I meant no harm.”

“I’m sure you didn’t dearie, but the trouble is a little thing called reality versus perception.” His eyes glowed as he attempted to enlighten her. “A foolish person might think that reality is what really matters in life, but that’s not entirely true. For you see, perception is so much stronger sometimes. If you are perceived as guilty, then you are surely in as much trouble as you would be if you were actually guilty.”

Emma nodded her head slowly. “And what do I need to do to change this perception of myself and what I did?” she asked.

His lips remained closed as they curled up into a grin of satisfaction that she was listening to him. “First you must remove any doubt from people’s minds. You dictate your own story.”

Emma gave him a similar smile. “And how do I go about doing that, sir?”

“Why we frame the real story,” he said, leaning forward a bit on the table. “So tell me, Emma. Why were you so interested in those two patients?”

***AAA***

“How did you know I’d be here?” Emma asked as she left the pawn shop and saw Killian waiting for her. “I didn’t know that I’d keep this appointment.”

“I was hoping to see you,” he said with a little shrug. “May I escort you back?” He lifted his arm away from his body so that she might loop hers through. She did so without further prodding.

“You may.”

Killian gave another look at the pawn shop, frowning a bit. “I do wish you would have allowed me to come with you to see Mr. Gold. I detest the idea that you would do that alone.”

“Ruby and Granny both said we can’t let…”

He grimaced. “I know what they said, love. It does not mean that I have to appreciate it that you are facing this alone. You should have asked me for my assistance long before. I would have found a way.”

She let his name die on her lips for a moment, unsure what to say. She had come to him, but she’d never revealed her whole plan. She’d even deviated from it herself. She walked alongside him for a few steps and then laughed. “You said something about a date this morning?”

“Aye, that’s Ruby’s word,” he laughed. “I’m afraid I’m not much accustomed to such things. Even back in our realm, I rarely socialized beyond the ship.

She nodded. “Sounds like I was not the only one who was sheltered,” she teased. “Perhaps we should plan something together?” She stopped walked suddenly and he felt himself pulled back next to her. “Why are you doing this?”

“I would think the answer was obvious,” he said, the rosy blush creeping up his face. “It is not on many occasions that a sailor such as myself would have the opportunity to spend time with a princess. No one should blame me that I would take advantage of our peculiar circumstances to be in your presence.”

“And you aren’t trying to distract me from the unpleasantness of my failure yesterday?” she asked.

He smiled, lifting her chin so that her eyes met his with his free hand. “You should not be so full of self-loathing to think that way, Emma,” he said. “I love spending time with you, getting to know you, and enjoying your company. All the better that we can do that without the trappings of our previous circumstances.”

“And you aren’t curious at all what I learned today?”

“You will tell me eventually,” he commented off handedly.

They were merely steps away from Granny’s when another arm scooped in around Emma and pulled her away from Killian. “We need to shop,” Mary Margaret declared, her smile bright and shining as she tugged at the bewildered girl. “Ruby said you’re going on a date. You need the proper outfit.”

Killian laughed as the woman stepped in front of Emma with both of her hands bracing the blonde’s shoulders. “This isn’t date attire, Emma,” she said, noting the jeans and sweater with a shake of her head. “No, no, no.”

Emma turned her head helplessly to Killian. “It isn’t?”

“Emma, honey, no,” the teacher admonished. “We have to get you something more…romantic.” She let go of Emma’s shoulders and waved Killian off. “Ruby said that she’ll help you get ready, but Emma’s mine for now. Now go. Shooo….”

Killian could not help but smile warmly as he watched mother and daughter trot off toward the only clothing store in town.

***AAA***

Killian gasped, Mary Margaret giggled, Ruby beamed happily and Emma kept her eyes lowered as she descended the staircase in the traditional date fashion. He watched her every move as she walked toward him, the blue dress she wore gently shifting with each step. Mary Margaret and Ruby disappeared around the corner, trying to seem as if they weren’t watching the couples every move. Killian took a small step closer and placed a single finger beneath her chin, adjusting her to look at him. His smile just melted her nervousness.

“We should go, I suppose,” Emma said, looking at the two sets of eyes that were trying their best to seem disinterested.

“Good idea,” Killian said, reaching down to entwine his hand with hers as he led her outside. “Granny threatened to give you a curfew and to string me up if I violated it.”

“You are frightened of her?” Emma asked.

“Terrified.” He cleared his throat before lifting her hand to his mouth to gently run his lips across the back of it. “It is quite a daunting task to think of some sort of evening to please a princess. Ruby proposed many suggestions, but I was trying to think about what makes for a perfect date. This realm offers many options for such outings, but none felt right. The only thing that I could come up with as a necessity was you. I just need you, so I decided that since all I need is you, we should avoid contact with all other humans.” Emma laughed lightly, squeezing his hand. “So, no diner, no theater, no tavern, nothing. Just you and me.”


	22. Chapter 22

_**A/N: I will probably not be able to update for about 48 hours. Family and work obligations will keep me away from my computer, but I appreciate your patience. I tried to give you a little fluff to hold you over.** _

Dating in the Enchanted Forest was nothing similar to that of Storybrooke. One might have a chaperoned walk around the palace gardens with a potential suitor, always an appropriate distance between the couple. Or one might be seated near that same suitor at a dinner where he spent most of the time making talk with her father about the state of the kingdom and other such business. So it did feel a bit freeing and even a bit naughty to walk in broad daylight with a man down the street. Her hand was tucked into his and there were no side glances from the men and women of court, nor were there any discussions about intentions and reputations. Instead, she felt just like he had said. They were the only two people who mattered to each other at that moment.

"Do you not have a plan?" she asked as they seemed to walk aimlessly down the sidewalk and skipped over the more obvious places one might take a date.

"So little trust in me," he mocked, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I should think you would know that a man who has risen in the ranks of the royal navy would be all about strategy, especially when it comes to wooing a woman."

"Is that what you're attempting to do?" she asked, a laugh in her throat. "You did not bring me flowers."

"Would you have liked a flower?" he asked, the smirk on his face undeniable.

"I think I would have preferred another type of attention. I am sure to be hungry later. Are we really not going to a restaurant?"

He chuckled as she frowned that disappointed look of hers. "I have a better plan than that, so long as the weather holds." Her frown did not disappear. "You do not trust me to take care of you either. Such a shame, Emma, such a shame. Perhaps you could allow me that this evening?" She nodded her head, squeezing his hand a bit with hers. She had heard men offer her father their word that they would take care of her, a phrase that always meant a lack of control to Emma. She'd heard them talk of plans for the future with no regard to her happiness or desires, simply assuming that she would comply. Killian's offer seemed different, as if she knew that he was taking her into consideration and not just as an afterthought.

"I do trust you," she said, losing the playful tone. "But you had better feed me during this date."

"I wouldn't dream of not," he laughed. "It is too bad that magic does not seem to be present in this world. You always seemed to have a knack for conjuring up some of the most delicious food."

"That is what you remember most of my magic," her laugh matching his.

There was mischief in his eyes as he watched her. "Perhaps I should kiss you again just to see if you can provide us with a wonderful meal." He pulled her a bit closer, they combined hands now at the small of her back as he gently brushed his lips against hers. "Too bad, love," he said. "You're right there does not seem to be much magic in this village. You have to admit it was quite convenient of a skill to have." Tugging on her hand, he crossed the street with her toward the pharmacy and bit back a laugh at her confused expression.

"You're going to woo me with healing items?" she questioned as the sailor pushed open the door and led her inside.

"Ruby had delivered our food already," he said, "but I needed to stop here to pick up something else. Stop being such a princess."

She huffed good naturedly. "I am a princess," she reminded him. "But I have yet to demand anything of you." He squeezed her hand back as they crossed to the back row and he selected two bottles of soda, which he had come to enjoy despite the magical bubbles as he referred to them.

"You are like a child sometimes," she said as they waited in line to purchase the items. "I think I might like that about you."

He was ready to answer her, tease her that her own behavior could be just as immature. However, the wail of a baby echoed through the store and cut through every conversation that was being had at that moment. Emma's gaze faltered and then rested on Regina who was holding a screaming infant in her arms.

The child's hair was shockingly blonde in comparison to Regina's darker features. Emma practically gasped as she stared into the familiar face, her stomach churning and her skin becoming clammy. The baby's wails grew louder and Emma's feet dug into her shoes as if she was somehow being drawn toward the child.

"Emma?" Killian asked, finally looking over his shoulder to see the woman and baby. "Emma…"

Emma shook herself to clear the thoughts that ran through her mind. "Killian, the baby…"

He could see Regina leaning forward, as if attempting to hear their conversation. Pulling at Emma harshly, he shook his head to try to silence her. Willing her not to reveal any suspicion in front of the Evil Queen. "I don't think we'll need anything else," he told her, tugging her to face him. "I am quite adept at planning these things."

She blinked several times, her confusion evident. "I trust you," she whispered.

Regina was still in the store, complaining to Mr. Clark that she was in need of a certain type of diaper rash cream that he seemed to not be that familiar with compared to all the other products. With the sun sitting lower in the sky, Killian led Emma past two of the other buildings toward the park.

"What do you know about Regina and that baby?" Emma asked him, suddenly finding her voice again. "Did you see him? He looked so familiar."

Killian stopped, his breath harsh as he squinted back at her. "He looks like you, darling. I noticed it the first time I saw the lad. He's got that same beautiful hair that you have. He has your eyes, your chin, even the rosy cheeks that blush when you are embarrassed or upset."

"But how…why would Regina's child look like me?" she asked. "I don't understand."

"Nor do I," he admitted. "Emma, it is another of the mysteries here. You don't have a child do you?"

Emma blushed deeply, her face flaming from the implication of his words. "Killian, you're the only man I've ever…"

"I didn't mean to imply that you were somehow…"

She shook her head. "The child is not mine," she said, "but who could have had a child who looks so much like me."

Killian looked skyward for a moment, the clouds of the day having turned pink and orange as the sun prepared to set. "Is it possible he is your parents' child?" he asked cautiously. "Your brother perhaps?" In the Enchanted Forest his words would be considered bold, as men did not speak of women's conditions that way unless it was of their own wife. However, he was in Storybrooke and had already broken many rules of propriety with Emma.

"My mother…" Emma's face paled from its earlier blush and her breath caught in her throat. "Wouldn't I have…" Her mouth dropped and Killian pulled her toward him not for any reason but to support her as the thoughts swirled in her head. "My mother left a letter with me on the ship. I read it each night until…I was not feeling so abandoned."

Killian rolled his lips over his teeth and waited on her to continue. When she didn't, he attempted to prod her a bit. "What did the note say, Emma?"

"That I would not be alone in my new home, as she was sending a great treasure ahead," Emma said, her voice breaking. "Is it possible?" Images swirled in her mind, all turning and taunting her with half truths. "Is it?"

He sighed. "Would you prefer to go back the inn?" he asked. "We don't have to…"

Swallowing hard, she offered him a tremulous smile. "I'm sorry, Killian. You offered me tonight as a way to forget about everything and here I am…"

"You're doing what you should be doing," he said, letting his lips brush against her forehead before stepping backward. "I don't know how we can determine the nature of things with this curse, but we shall."

She closed her eyes and he prepared himself to walk her back to the bed and breakfast, knowing that she was overwhelmed by the possibility that her step-grandmother was raising the baby who might just be her baby brother. "No," she said softly. "I don't want to go back presently."

"What do you want?" he asked her, the sincerity in his voice more than she had ever heard.

"I want this evening with you," she said firmly. "I want to forget the curse. I want to forget that I was locked away yesterday. I want to forget that my mother doesn't know me and my father can't wake up."

He swung their entwined hands between them, smiling at her. "Then we shall have our evening now," he said. "Allow me to escort you to our date."

***AAA***

They crested the hill and Emma saw the park laying out below them, the street lamps that lined the paths frequented by joggers and bikers. Each seemed to be a candle burning under the roof of the sky. When Emma said that to Killian, he merely smiled and told her it was the most private spot he could find. "It is still a bit cold for children to be playing at this time of evening, but I had hoped that it would be comfortable enough for you."

"It's perfect," she agreed, spying the bank of swings that faced the water. Before he could protest or catch her, she released his hand and ran toward them, the golden hair trailing behind her. His mouth gaped open at the carefree look about her. He was not so naïve as to think that she had forgotten her brother might be in the Evil Queen's clutches. There was no way she could push those thoughts aside, but once again he could see her as she must have been. He jogged after her, seeing her plop as elegantly as she could on the leathery seat of the swing with her head turned to watch him over her shoulder. "Push me," she half asked and half demanded.

He did not obey her request, twisting the chains so that she might face the setting sun and watch it fade behind the trees that separated the park from the town's buildings. He kept one hand holding her swing's chains and the other held his own swing steady as he sat down next to her, maneuvering himself so that he might hold her as they watched the last vestiges for the day. The colors spilled out, melting into one another until the sun had disappeared and the colors turned to blackness.

"I would have liked to have been a painter," she said softly. "To use all the colors to tell the stories that I wanted to tell. My governess used to say it wasn't very lady like to smell of oils and thinner. I gave it up before I was 13."

"Would you like to try it again?" he asked, well aware that his holding her was probably a mistake. He knew their time like this was limited.

"No," she said, "but when I see a sunset or some other beautiful sight, I can't help but want to capture it somehow."

He smiled, breathing her in for a moment before he sighed and sat back, letting her swing roughly right itself. "Shall we eat?"

She shook her head, lifting her feet off the ground so that her legs held out straight. "Push me," she said again. "I want to fly."

He chuckled again, standing up and letting his hand touch her back where the dress material met her skin. He should have insisted she wore a coat, but she had refused saying that she would later. Instead he listened to her delight as he pushed her and as she leaned her head back, he knew it felt to her as if she was really flying.

"I always wanted to be a bird," she said, "to know that freedom of flying through the sky."

"What kind of bird?" he asked, his fingertips numbing as he touched her again.

"I don't know exactly."

They were both quiet for a moment lost in thoughts of freedom, flying, and the birds that seemed to capture that moment. "A swan," he suggested. "I think that would fit you perfectly."

Having been swinging with her eyes closed to feel the rush of the breeze and the sensation of the movement, her eyes shot open. "Truly?"

"Aye," he said. "They are regal, beautiful, and graceful, just as you are, Emma. They are at home on land, and in the air, and on the water. I should think it is the accurate depiction of a lass such as yourself."

They continued her swing for a few more moments until her stomach grumbled its hungry protest. Guiding her to where he had set up their dinner with Ruby's help, the two dined in relative silence. She protested when he said it might be growing too cold and welcomed the jacket he placed over her shoulders as consolation.

"Not all the stars are different," she said to him, her face skyward and her head resting upon his shoulder. "I recognize some."

He nodded his silent reply.

"Do you have a favorite one?" she asked, her tone serious.

He thought for a moment before answering her, his voice a bit hoarse in his reply. "No, not a favorite star." He smiled. "I'm afraid that what I told you before is true. When you must navigate by the stars they lose some of their mystery. What about you, love? Do you have a favorite star?"

"Not a favorite star," she admitted. "I do have a favorite constellation." She lifts their entwined hands to trace out the pattern. "Orion."

He looked at the sky as though it might offer some details as to her thoughts. "The hunter?"

"You know the story?" she asked, not waiting for his reply. "My father used to tell me stories about Orion, how he was a protector and a hunter. He said Orion would keep me safe when he and my mother could not. And when they were away and I was alone with the staff in the palace, I would talk to him. I would ask him to track down the things that I most needed and wanted. I wanted him to seek them out and hunt them for me."

Killian smiled at the thought of the young princess in her window staring out at the stars. "Did he?"

"Always."

He watched her sit up, pulling his jacket tighter around her as she did. "Too bad we want things as adults that are so complicated that a hunter in the sky cannot help us."

"Emma," he began, not sure if he could find the words that would help. "You will find the answers to this curse. I know you will."

She smiled sadly. "When you said my father was not able to wake up, I kept thinking of the story that my parents tell. My mother was under a sleeping curse. My father's kiss woke her up because they have true love. I know that my father would wake up if my mother…"

"But she is unaware that she is your mother or that her true love is lying in a sick ward."

"That would be one of those complicated adult wants," Emma said, running her thumb across his knuckles as he often did with her. "I thought that maybe…"

He cocked his head to the side and stared at her. "What did you think, love?"

"I thought that perhaps if we kissed that we could break the curse because maybe our love…" She fell into silence, embarrassed or even relieved that she had let the word escape. "I didn't…"

His head bowed a bit. "Emma," he said. "Perhaps it is my own fault that our kisses have not worked in a way to stop the curse." He appeared almost chagrinned over the matter. "You see, I have wanted your happiness above all. I have wanted you to find your parents, to know their love again, to fulfill your destiny of ruling a great kingdom. And when we break the curse, when you find a way to defeat the forces against you, you will go back to that life. Whether here or back in the Enchanted Forest, you will lead your people and do great things." He closed his eyes briefly, the image of her arriving at the ship in the gilded carriage fresh in his mind. "I will be happy for you, darling. I will celebrate your triumphant return to the throne, but I will also mourn."

"Mourn?" she asked, feeling not only the inches between them but his emotions distancing them farther. "What do you mean?"

"I will mourn what we have right now, Emma. You are my beautiful swan right now. We are here and free to hold each other as though I truly had a right to be someone special in your life. For when your parents return to you and when the obligations of the crown are once again upon you, you're going to forget me. And perhaps it is my fear that our time together is limited is what keeps our kiss from being powerful enough to end the curse."

She closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against his. "You should not doubt what is in my heart, Killian," she said. "I…" She looked as though she might cry, her eyes brimming with tears that peeked out from under her long lashes. "You know I can't choose between the two lives," she said. "What we have right now is…"

"A diversion?" he supplied glumly.

"I was prepared to say that it was more than I could have hoped for," she answered. "You have been there for me even when I have managed to make such horrific mistakes. You have shown me how to be myself. You have…"

A loud noise sounded in the distance, the rumble trembling the earth beneath them. "We should go, darling," Killian said, looking suspiciously toward the town. "Whatever that was does not bode well."


	23. Chapter 23

Emma and Killian stood with the crowd on the outskirts of the wood laden path where a wishing well sat just off to the side and the moonlight was now aided by the car lights from the sheriff’s vehicle. By the time they had arrived most of the residents of the town had already started forming their own thoughts as to the source of the loud sound and rumbling that had dissipated but still echoed in the people’s ears.

“What do you think it is was?” Emma asked Killian quietly as she saw her mother speaking briefly to someone before smiling and waving to her. While the friendly grins and warm welcomes were nice, she longed for the days when her mother would hold her and when she felt protected by the former bandit’s abilities.

“I don’t know, love,” he said, “but such a sound could not be anything pleasant.”

Emma knew that she had seen her mother’s liberator only a few times, even less in Storybrooke, but the gentle lilt of Graham’s voice was familiar to her. She turned her head as she heard the stern way that he barked orders at some of the town employees. When another questioned him, he moved in that familiar way of resting his hands on his lean hips and rocking back on his heels as he considered the information. A curt nod in the person’s direction and Graham stepped toward the middle of the group.

“Ladies and Gentleman,” he said, clearing his throat as he repeated the plea for calm. “We’ve had a cave in at the mines. I don’t know the cause of it, but two of the tunnels are currently blocked. I’m going to need some volunteers. We need to stay organized about this matter.” The tall man quickly dispersed the crowd sending part to the hospital, including Killian. Another group he sent with Ruby back to the diner to provide supplies to those searching the remaining mine shafts and coffee for those needing the energy. A group of eager and experienced searchers jumped into gear and headed off in teams to seek any of the trapped miners.

Emma stood on the fringes and waited for the sheriff to assign her to a duty or job. He ignored her, shooting her only the occasional glance with a pained expression that he did not know what to do with her.

When only a few people remained, she approached him. “I had hoped to help too,” she said, her hand reaching out as if he might hand her something that would make for a job.

His mouth formed a tight lipped expression and he waited a moment before speaking. “You have left me in a bit of dilemma when it comes to that Emma,” he said, her name sounding odd on his lips like he wasn’t sure if he should say it. “I cannot send you to the hospital for obvious reasons, nor can I send you to the diner. You don’t seem to have the skills of a miner.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “So you’re saying that all these people have more to offer than I do simply because…”

He shook his head, holding his hand up at his radio blared to life with some crackled and garbled report of something in one of the tunnels. “Go back to the station,” he said. “I need someone there to direct people to the different search sites, to the supply locations, and to keep track of the volunteers. Can you do that?”

She nodded, smiling slightly. “Thank you for the vote of confidence.”

***AAA***

For a man with no medical and very limited modern technology knowledge, Killian was quite busy at the hospital that night. He routed supplies and ran charts to the appropriate doctors and guided people to where they needed to go. After a few hours and word that there no serious casualties, Killian joined Dr. Whale on the hospital roof for a breath of fresh air.

His mind was on Emma, as he had no idea where she had gone after the cave-ins. She was not at Granny’s. Killian had managed to make a phone call to Ruby to confirm that and nobody mentioned having seen her at the staging area. He was sure she could take care of herself, but he wanted that responsibility back on him, wanted to be the one who cared for her and knew that she was safe and sound.

“You didn’t have to stay,” Victor said, taking a swig out of the water bottle and swirling it a bit in his hand. “I am actually surprised that you did.”

“I supposed I’m still trying to prove my worth around here,” Killian said, his face stoic in the dim light provided by a nearby building. “People think…”

“It doesn’t really matter what people think,” Victor interrupted. “That’s what Ruby tells me anyway. We all have our struggles and our battles, but it should not matter what other people think of that. So long as…” He could not remember the rest of the words that Ruby had told him when he had said something similar to Killian. “What did you used to do before this?”

“Excuse me, but I’m not sure what you mean?” Killian asked, startled by the sudden change in topic.

“Before this job at the hospital? Before this move to this town? What did you do?”

Killian shifted his weight, feeling impossibly burdened by what should be simple questions. He answered as honestly as he could. “I served in the Navy,” Killian managed to say, hoping that Victor did not question that much further. Thankfully Victor was not like Ruby.

“And that man?” Victor asked, a bit quieter than Killian had ever heard. “The patient…”

Trying the honest route again, Killian ducked his head. “My brother.”

The doctor did not seem surprised by the revelation and took another swig of water. “I should have guessed. You both share some of the same features.” He studied Killian for a moment. “It’s hard to be without your brother. There’s a bond that is so hard to explain to someone who has no such connection.”

“It is.”

The doctor’s faced clouded over for a moment longer. “He’s the reason that the woman…Emily…Emma was in the ward? She accessed his records for you?”

Killian’s heart leapt a bit at the comprehension from the doctor, knowing that the man might very well blame him too. He would not have minded taking the fall for Emma, though she had refused to allow it. He would have done anything to remove her from harm. So he stayed silent as Victor mulled over this disclosure in his mind.

Receiving no acknowledgement, Victor nodded as though he heard one from Killian’s mouth. “I see. He’s not injured. I believe he must have suffered an illness with a fever that has left some swelling on his brain. I had hoped that once the swelling decreased that he would awaken, but so far he has not.” The doctor looked out on the town that seemed to have too many lights for one its size that night. “There are few patients like him in the unit. I haven’t the foggiest clue what could have made them all so sick at the same time, but none have awoken yet. Not a single one.”

The doctor continued with medical jargon that was a bit beyond Killian’s understanding. Still the lieutenant did his best to use the context clues to make sense of the words.

“You are not on duty for the rest of the day?” Victor asked him.

Killian shook his head.

“Come back after lunch. We’ll see to your brother.”

***AAA***

Emma sat awkwardly in the chair behind the desk, watching as Graham issued a few more instructions into the walkie talkie. His face showed the pressure of the situation, a tired mask covering him as his hand raked over his features and rested over his mouth.

“Was no one found in that tunnel?” she asked. Her voice startled him as though he had not been cognizant of her presence. “The one with the largest amount of damage.”

“That is a good thing,” Graham reminded her. “We were hoping there weren’t many miners in there, but we weren’t sure.” With a drawn out sigh, he moved behind the desk that was obviously his, the surface littered with files and notepads, a few take out napkins and an empty cup or two completed the picture. The middle draw on the side stuck as he pulled it, but with a firmer yank it slid open with a groan of metal on metal. “I’m hungry. You?”

“A bit,” she admitted.

“These are from this morning, but I would think they are still good.” He pulls out a box from the local bakery and flips open the flimsy paper lid. “Have a preference?”

A few sugary and glaze covered doughnuts were leaning against each other in the box. Emma’s eyes and hands hovered over them as Graham explained that while the assumption that all law enforcement officials nosh on the pastries is insulting, in his case it is true. He had a sweet tooth for only one thing. She settles on one that does not look like the others, lacking the round shape with a hole in the middle.

“Good choice,” Graham answered, pulling the box back and selecting his own. “I’m partial to bear claws myself.”

She tried to covertly inspect the pastry, a bit confused by the name he had just given it. “Thank you,” she muttered, hoping that was an appropriate response. However, she was most thankful that the taste of the pastry was sweet and not gamey or meaty like an actual bear claw.

While she ate her treat by breaking off bits and placing them gently in her mouth, his style was more rugged. He bit chunks of the doughnut and chewed thoroughly. “While I’m in a giving mood with the compliments, I should say that you have a calm head on your shoulders. You don’t seem easily flustered.”

She looked at him curiously, thankful that her mouth was full and she did not have to talk. She tried to imagine what he must have looked like to her mother, the day he saved her life. There is a kindness in his eyes that is still there despite a hollowness that now resides in prominence.

“It’s a rare gift,” he said. “A rare treat to see.” His mouth quirked up into a smile that was quickly replaced by a more somber expression. “You lost your job at the diner?”

“The mayor played her hand there,” Emma acknowledged. “I couldn’t really fight it.”

Popping the last bit of the doughnut into his mouth, he reached into the box for another. “I could use some help around here,” he said. “If you’re interested.”

Taken aback, Emma watched him act as though that was a real and actual offer and possibility. He showed not once ounce of tongue-in-cheek attitude toward her as he said it. “Wouldn’t the mayor object to my working here? I can hardly fathom that she would accept it when she protested my working at the diner.”

“I’m elected to my post, same as her,” Graham explained with a little shrug. “I could use the help and you could use the job.”

***AAA***

Emma was curled up on the bed when Killian entered their room, the knitted throw that usually adorned the back of the chair was over her legs and her hand was cradling her cheek against the pillow. He pulled off his shoes and toed out of his socks before he could make any noise to wake her, smiling to himself as he watched her sleep. She’d clearly been waiting for him, willing herself not to succumb to the allure of the bed by staying over the covers.

He gingerly made his way to her side of the bed, running his fingers down one of the curls that rested over her cheek. Just that gentle movement woke her, eyelids fluttering and her mouth opening slightly. She said his name as quietly as he had ever heard.

“You are safe,” he said, more to himself than to her. “I was worried when…”

She rolled onto her back, stretching out her legs and pointing her toes in an effort to feel the tension leave her muscles. “You needn’t worry about me, Killian.”

He frowned at her sincere smile. “I always will, love,” he said just as softly. “It is not a lack of confidence, but a fear that the forces around us might be stronger than we realize.”

She looked peaceful there on the bed, her hair pooling around her on the white pillowcase. One side of her face a bit pinker than the other from her former position. “I worry about you too,” she admitted. One of her hands seemed to reach up on its own accord and caress the stubble covered cheek. “I like it best when you are here with me.”

His smile seemed almost shy as he let her words sink over him, his head turning to kiss the palm of her hand. “I was able to talk to Dr. Whale about my brother. He is allowing me to sit with him a bit after lunch. I shall see about your father too.”

“Killian, that’s wonderful,” she said brightly. “He seems like a good man to let you do that.”

His eyes left hers for a moment, staring at the object on the bedside table. “What is that, love?” he asked. She twisted her head to look at the item in question and smiled a bit shyly.

“A badge,” she said, waiting for his response.

Killian sat up straighter, reaching his arm out to touch the metal star that looked familiar. The words Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department were engraved across it, his thumb feeling the deep grooves of the letters. “Did the Sheriff come calling on you?”

She laughed lightly, reaching out to grab the star from him, but keeping her hand over his. “No,” she said. “I worked with him a bit after everyone got their assignments. He’s offered me a job.”

The alarm on Killian’s face did not mask the jealousy that poked out as well. “With him?” he asked. He had not actually had a run in with the town’s only law enforcement either there or in the Enchanted Forest, but he had ears and had heard women speak of the dashing man with a compassionate demeanor.

“Yes,” she said, raising her own eyebrow in question of his understanding. “I’m going to work around the office there some. Run some errands. That sort of thing.”

“He’s not afraid of Regina’s interference?” Killian asked, watching her look at him with something akin to pride in her eyes. “Love?”

“He says that they have an understanding,” she answered. “I’m not sure what that is exactly, but he did not seem to fret over it.” She frowned. “You’re not pleased? I thought that maybe with this new position that I could…”

He forced a smile that did not seem to fully encapsulate his face. “If you are happy, Emma, so am I.” He watched her pull the badge from him, stretching again to return it to its spot on the table. “You are just what I said earlier,” he mused. “Quite swan like.”

Settling back on the pillow, she held her breath, her lashes fluttering downward under his gaze. “You’re changing the subject,” she said.

“You’re a beautiful distraction, darling.” The smile becoming more real as she blushed. Her hand reached back to his cheek, his head moving toward the cradle of her palm as she touched the warm stubble covered skin. The fingers of her hand inched backwards toward the back of his neck, slowly pulling him down toward her. “Emma,” he said, his mouth dipping down after her name to brush against hers. Her lips were warm against his, soft as she welcomed him and pulled him down toward her. When he hesitated, she whined. Lifting her head off the pillow, she met him part way, running her mouth against his and moaning gratefully as his lips parted at her tongue’s insistence. He lowered her back to the pillow, never taking his mouth from hers nor breaking their connection. When he finally did pull back, it was only a few inches and his eyes studied hers intently.

“We did have a date,” she said, as if excusing their kisses. “It seems right that we should kiss at the end of it.”

He chuckled, but did not move in either direction. “Like I said, a princess,” he teased throatily. “You always get what you want.”

“And you do not want the same?” she asked, her voice soft and melodic between their breathing.

“Of course I do,” he said, “I just fear it being temporary.”

She closed her eyes, afraid that he would pull back even more from her. “I don’t want it to be temporary,” she said so softly that she thought he might not have heard. Opening her eyes, she was prepared to say it again, but the smile on his lips said otherwise.

“Your parents would never allow…”

“My parents are a bandit and a shepherd who embraced their royal traditions,” she said, her grip on him stronger than even her words. “I should think they might not mind so much my loving a lieutenant so long as I did so truly.”

“And what of my brother’s opinion? Do you think that he would approve of you as a princess?”

She giggled a bit, imagining the Liam that she knew from the ship. “I think he would have a few words for you about your feelings for me, Killian,” she said. “I pray that someday we hear them.”

“As do I.” He sank a bit closer to her. “Emma, I don’t know…”

“Then let’s not speak of it,” she interrupted, pulling him back to her. Their lips fused again, hands and mouths exploring as they briefly forgot all reasons for concern and once again just became one with each other.

***AAA***

Victor could feel the fatigue set in as he made his last rounds before the sun rose in the sky. His eyes were foggy as he checked off each patient and wondered again if he had what it took to be a general practitioner in a small town hospital. He did everything and was appreciated for nothing, or so it seemed most days.

His last duty of rounds was that of the long-term unit, a thankless and unchanging task that felt sometimes like silent roll call rather than the actual practicing of medicine. He moved swiftly from one patient to the next, confirming the written reports of vital signs and lack of changes in consciousness. His eyes blurred over the numbers and scribbling of his colleagues to the point that it took four separate glances to confirm that the blue eyes of the patient Killian had identified as those of his brother were now open.

**_Please review._ **


	24. Chapter 24

Killian’s eyes open slowly, the internal monologue of hoping that the woman in his arms in not some illusion or dream is growing steadily louder with each moment. The last time he’d woken up in that position he’d been on the floor of a cave, but truthfully the sensations of Emma’s hair tickling his skin, her soft puffs of air against him, and way she curled perfectly into the circle of his arms was more than comfortable. She had fallen asleep first, her smiling expression against his neck as he ran his hands along her. He’d been more reluctant to sleep, assuming that in the morning light she would find some reason to move away from him again. Finally the need for sleep had overtaken him, he promised himself that no matter what might come in the future he would remember the few moments they had shared.

“This room needs thicker drapery,” Emma muttered, her voice thick with sleep and muffled against him. “I can’t sleep with all that sunlight streaming in through the windows.”

“I don’t believe we are meant to sleep at this time of day, love,” he chuckled. “It is nearly 11.”

She laughed softly. “I do think I like this bed better than the cave floor though,” she said, glad that her hair and his chest covered her face and he could not see her blushing.

“It is a tad bit more comfortable,” he teased, resting his chin on the top of her head. “And the weather is much more temperate.”

In silence they laid there, neither sleeping nor talking. The only movements were the occasional lazy kiss and caresses across skin. He wanted to say something to her, put into words how much he cared for her and how he did not care which realm they lived in so long as he could hold her like that each night and morning. However, the words were not coming to his lips and the doubts that they could make anything of their feelings were growing louder too. If she felt the same, he reasoned, she said nothing either. A knock to the door sounded sharply in the room and interrupted whatever sentiments and discussion might have been bubbling up for them. Killian rose from the bed and threw on the pants that lay next to it so that he might crack open the door and look into the daylight enhanced hallway.

“There you are,” Ruby said, exasperation evident in her voice. “I was waiting on you guys to come down for breakfast but you’ve missed that.”

Rubbing a hand over his face, Killian stared at the woman a bit in confusion. She seemed quite upset, too distraught to only be about their missing a meal. “I’m sorry, Ruby,” he commented slowly. “Was there something…”

“Victor has called eight times in the last hour,” she said, not waiting on his question or apology. “That man…the one…he’s awake.”

Killian grunted a reply of thanks and stood shocked as Ruby’s annoyance got the best of her. She shouted out a direction that Victor was waiting on them and that they should get their butts dressed and on the go. Shutting the door and leaning on the smooth wooden surface, he closed his eyes for a moment.

Emma stared at him from the bed, the sheets and covers pooled around her and tucked under arms. “Is everything…”

“Liam’s awake,” he said, the startled edge still evident in his voice. “He’s awake.” The clench in his stomach felt as though it might threaten his sanity. His brother had awoken and he was not there. He was not even thinking of his brother that morning, having concentrated instead on the blonde woman who was staring at him with such concern.

“Killian,” she said, shaking him from his thoughts. “You look so pale. Is everything okay with your brother? Is he…”

Killian shook his head and began to gather the discarded clothing from the floor and the furniture. “I need to hurry to the hospital,” he explained. “He’s been there all alone.”

Emma nodded and waited for him to finish his rush through the room and followed suit. She did not ask him any other questions, trying to squelch the feeling of rejection that was simmering inside. Of course he wanted to get to his brother. She understood that, but it was the way he had looked at her. The regret that he had been with other rather than sitting vigil with Liam was palpable. When she heard the door shut behind him, leaving her alone in the room, she knew that it had not been her imagination.

***AAA***

It had only taken minutes for Killian to run the few blocks from Granny’s to the hospital, his feet not even feeling the pavement under him. If his disheveled appearance seemed to shock Victor, the man’s face did not show it. Instead the doctor steered the man into a regular hospital room to see for himself that the curly haired man was sitting up and sipping on a bowl of clear chicken broth as a nurse ran another set of vitals.

“I hope that you’re still feeling well, sir,” Victor said to Liam, replacing the clipboard at the end of the bed. “I have brought you a visitor.”

Liam’s blue eyes snapped upward and met Killian’s. “How do you do?” Liam asked, his voice polite but reserved. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you yet.”

Killian still hovered in the doorway, only stepping aside so that the nurse might leave. “I’m well, Liam,” he said, holding his breath as the man took another bit of the broth in his mouth and swallowed.

Liam’s gaze shifted to the doctor who looked at him expectantly. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he said. The cadence of his voice and the way his eyes narrowed as he spoke of his confusion was a familiar sight to Killian, but there was no doubt that the man in front of him did not remember a life in the Enchanted Forest or at the helm of the Jewel of the Realm.

A few questions only served to irritate the patient, his patience waning with the idea that he might be someone else. Victor gripped the younger brother’s shoulder hard and pulled him from the room. “Are you still certain?” the doctor asked, his tired expression weaker than Killian had seen before.

“I’m certain that is my brother,” Killian said, hesitating, as the explanation would not sit well with a man who did not remember portals, magic, and other Enchanted Forest rarities. However, the doctor did not question him, instead speaking of rare forms of altered states of reality.

“I am going to have him speak with our psychiatric staff,” Victor said, nodding to himself in agreement of the assessment. “I’m also going to run some blood work on the both of you.”

Killian’s face must have shown his confusion and question, as the doctor gave a brief explanation of seeing if there was evidence of their sibling relationship. Using the standard technique of nodding as if it brought understanding, he did his part and felt himself swept over to have blood drawn from his arm and his mouth swabbed.

***AAA***

“You didn’t go with him?” Ruby asked, her fingers flying across an adding machine as she pulled a pencil from her mouth with her other hand. “I know there was the whole ugliness at the hospital, but come on…Victor says that is his brother.”

Emma bit her lip delicately and waited on the whirlwind that was Ruby to change the subject. When the woman didn’t, Emma gave her a little shrug. “I wasn’t sure if I would be welcome there,” she said. “I thought Killian could handle this on his own.”

Ruby’s eyes moved upward and the now lipstick stained pencil pointed toward Emma. “You’re both like that, you know? You both push people away and want to take on the world alone, but sometimes…sometimes you need to realize the reason people are in your life is to help you.”

“I have not properly thanked you for all your assistance,” Emma admitted, shaking her head mournfully. “Truthfully, Ruby, you have been a great friend to us.”

“I wasn’t fishing for a compliment,” Ruby said flippantly. “I’m just saying that whatever is wrong, you can tell me. Is that really Killian’s brother?”

Emma nodded, unable to lie about such a thing. “Yes, they have been apart for a while.”

“And he’s the reason you’re here in Storybrooke?”

She was not sure where he mother had gotten the oversized sweater that she had given Emma, but she had to admit the comfort was quite nice. Her hands half covered by the knitted material and the material covering her neck provided a sense of warmth when the wind seemed to be picking up. “Partially,” Emma said, scrunching her nose. “I suppose we…”

The bell over the door sounded and the mayor’s familiar figure walked through the doorway with the sunlight silhouetting her. Ruby shot Emma a look and backed away from the princess to return to her spot behind the counter.

Emma’s lips had parted to say something, anything that would make Ruby believe about the curse and the Enchanted Forest. The only person she could even utter those words to was Killian. For a moment she considered it, telling her mother’s best friend of the completely unbelievable truths she knew. Regina’s appearance followed quickly by Killian signaled that the conversation would have to wait.

She could see in his eyes that there was pain and frustration looming. Giving him an almost imperceptible shake of the head, she gripped his forearm and walked out of the diner with him.

“He doesn’t remember, does he?” Emma asked as they passed a few of the businesses on the main road. “Liam?”

“No,” Killian managed to say. “Dr. Whale plans to run some experiments or some such thing to prove our kinship, but I’m not sure how that will help.”

Emma nodded, reaching out a cold hand to run her fingers between his. “I’m sorry. I know we can…”

“We can’t keep permitting ourselves to become distracted,” Killian vowed, moving his hand so slightly that she pulled hers back. He frowned at the loss of contact, but did not reach again. “We must determine the best way to end this curse and end it now.” The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and his jaw set in determination. She could see much of the lieutenant in him as he stared at her, battle plans probably running through his head.

“I had a thought,” she said tentatively, wishing there was not such a hard edge to the way he was looking upon her. “Last night we were standing by that well. I felt something while I was there. It was as if there was…I cannot describe it accurately. I can only say that I have heard that Mr. Gold goes there often. I had thought perhaps to think, but what if it is something more.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but her eyes were expressive. “What if the well is somehow enchanted?”

“Enchanted?” He pondered the word to himself. They had been there the night before and while he had felt little but the warm caress of Emma as they stood together, he could not rule out her observation. Still, this was a land without magic, as far as they had seen. What could she have felt? Then his mind wandered back to their arrival. “Where did we first appear when we arrived here in this place?”

Emma nodded knowingly, having already had the same thought as she was dressing that morning. “Next to the well.”

***AAA***

Emma’s hands trembled a bit as stood on the soft ground next to the well, hoping that something would stand out to her. She honestly felt very little, a slight hum of energy, but nothing that even compared to what she had felt on the island or in the Enchanted Forest. The energy was certainly weak, if it wasn’t just her imagination.

“Emma?” he asked, watching her pace about the area as though she was trying to find a lost object. “Darling?”

Her breath hitched at his endearment, which she almost objected to him calling her. She did understand about his brother and even his argument that their burgeoning relationship was a distraction, but it hurt that he pulled away after the steps they had taken. “Do you think it is possible that there is something here?”

“Anything is possible, love,” he said, watching her carefully. His eyes looked sad as she waited, wanting there to be a reason she was thinking that there was anything there at that well more than water. He sank down, sliding his back against a tree. He folded his arms on his knees.

“You know I know I understand, right?” she said, leaning over to peer down the well and seeing nothing but darkness with an occasional reflection against the water below. “I know what it’s like to see someone who has been there for you your whole life look at you like you’re someone they just met. I know what it is like to hear no recognition in their voice even though they sounded just the same as you remember.”

“Emma, it’s not…”

“Not the same?” she asked. “How isn’t it the same? Your brother probably looks upon you kindly, the same as my mother. If things stay like this, he’ll probably think of you as a friend, an acquaintance. You’ll have moments where he will do something nice for you and you’ll wonder if you’re finally breaking through, but…” She swallowed hard, leaning back her head to look up at the sky with her eyes blinking. He wasn’t sure if it was the sun or tears that made her do that. “You can’t let yourself wait for that moment when he’s going to remember you. It hurts too much, as it is like a thousand heartbreaks every time my mother looks at me and doesn’t see me. I don’t want that for you too.”

He was on his feet in a fraction of a second, wrapping his arms around her and feeling her shudder a bit with either the surprise of it or the sobs that he knew were inevitable. Cradling her against him, he looked toward the well with curious eyes. “Darling, how did you manage your magic before?”

Her head tilted back to look at him. “I told you. I concentrated on it and wished. Sometimes it worked and sometimes not.”

He brushed his fingers through the golden hair. “And what have you wished for today?”

She shook her head slowly, thinking back across the day. “Nothing since last night,” she said. “I don’t recall a real wish today.”

“Last night then,” he said, a small smile on his lips as his realization hit him. “You said you prayed my brother…”

“Would wake up,” Emma said with a start. “I wished and…”

_**A/N: Progress...We're getting there. Please let me know what you're thinking.**  _


	25. Chapter 25

**_A/N: This chapter jumps around a little and is a little dialogue heavy, but I hope it clears up a few things. Thanks again for reading, enjoying, commenting, and following/favoriting. I get excited with each e-mail I get about this story._ **

Killian could hear Emma’s humming as he ran his finger along some of the papers that Victor had given him about selective amnesia and alternate realities that come from something called WebMD. The notes make little sense, but Killian read and reread them looking for clues as to his brother’s behavior and condition. Feeling at the end of his rope, Killian was ready to ask if Emma could go and see his brother, hoping that her feistiness might break through the fog of his memory. After all, he is pretty sure that Emma’s wish the night before woke the naval captain up from his long slumber.

In between bars of a melody he was trying to place, he could hear the water sloshing and had to smile at the mental image of the princess. She had admitted that with all the things she missed of home, she did love the bathtubs at Granny’s. Water came from a faucet instead of a bucket and the ability to get hot water was better than any pail on a fire could provide. He knew that her mother had recently introduced her to something called bubble bath, having come in after one of her dips in the tub. The floral scent stayed in the air and the remnants of bubbles still graced her skin even after she had toweled off. Now he had the image of her sitting with bubbles all the way up to her chin with a child like smile and the soft laugh she had when she was reminiscing.

“Are you almost done in there, love?” he called out, throwing the papers down on the floor and running a hand over his face. “I could use a hand out here.”

“I’ll be there directly,” she called. He did not remind her that she had said the same thing for 15 minutes.

His eyes were closed as he heard the tub drain and tried not to imagine her with only a fluffy white towel around her. Her hair was probably still pinned up high on her head, making him imagine her at royal balls and functions where men kissed the back of her hand and asked favors of her like dancing and whispered innuendos of a future. He’d learned to dance from his mother, as she felt that every young gentleman should know. However, he had no doubt that the princess’s footwork would put his to shame. She had learned and practiced in ballrooms and courtyards. He’d been in a crowded fishing shack waltzing between furniture and equipment.

The fact that she was so affectionate toward him now, so loving, was not lost on him. He’d prayed and wished for her approval hundreds of times since he met her. He’d even dreamed of asking her father for her hand, picturing himself as the groom in a royal wedding and standing next to her as she was crowned queen one day. It wasn’t the royal pomp and circumstance that attracted him, it was knowing that Emma was in her rightful place that had him so intrigued. He dreamed of more than that. He dreamed of seeing her carrying his child, the thought maddening, frightening, and beautiful.

He knew he’d never have that. He’d never win over her parents to thinking their daughter was happy with a naval officer. Emma, Princess of Mist Haven, was destined for greatness. The curse was merely a setback in the road, as was he. He’d hoped that she would be fond of him, remember him with affection in the years to come after her parents put their feet down. Instead she would probably regret their dalliances as something she should have avoided and would rather forget.

“You look troubled,” she said, sitting on the bed with her back toward the footboard. “Anything you care to share with me?”

“Just tired, love,” he said, opening his eyes slowly to see what he had pictured. She wore a simple cotton gown but her hair was still braided and knotted on top of her head. The style featured her swan like neck even more so than before. “Thinking about what you said about wishing for Liam.”

“I suppose that sounded a bit arrogant,” she said, ducking her head down with the confession. “Of course I can’t take full responsibility. I wanted him to remember though. It would be so much easier if he did.”

“Do you wish it?” Killian asked, cocking his head to the side.

“If only it were that easy,” she said, her voice filling with regret. “I don’t know why that wish was different. Why did that one work and the 1,001 others did not?”

He wanted to say it was because the made love after she made it, fueling her magic with whatever it was between them, but that seemed just as egotistical to him. “Perhaps,” he said running his fingers along the stitching of the comforter and studying the pattern, “that wish was different because it was not for yourself. You wished that for me. It wasn’t like when you wished for something to do with your parents or the curse being over.”

She looked as though his words stung her, her eyes welling up with tears almost immediately. “My wishes for my parents aren’t selfish,” she said meekly. The thought raced through her mind that maybe they were selfish. She was wishing for them to remember her not each other. She wanted her parents, but they had other needs too.

“I didn’t mean that love,” he said, scooting forward so he might anchor her with his hand on her shoulder. “I meant that the wish for Liam was selfless on your part. A sacrifice, if you will. You know that when my brother remembers his life, he is not likely to approve of our relationship.” He waited for her to meet his eyes. “But you wanted me to have my brother back more than you wanted…”

“It is not a contest,” she said. “I think you know that.” There was a nervousness to her laughter. “We could experiment.”

His eyebrow unconsciously raised at her suggestion, sounding more like Ruby than herself at that moment. “What would that entail?”

She smiled, her eyes fluttering downward. “I could make a wish and we could kiss. Just to see if I could make it work.” She reached up to clasp the hand still on her shoulder. “Maybe we could try it at the well?”

“As you wish,” he said. “It’s a bit late now though, perhaps we should go in the morning.”

She nodded, calling him wise. “We could work on our charting,” she said, leaning over him to reach into the bedside table drawer and pull out the pad of paper where she had been making notes. Every person she’d met in Storybrooke was listed on one page with their Enchanted Forest identities next to the name, if known. The next contains all the people she can think of from the Enchanted Forest and then their Storybrooke identity.

“There was a baker,” Emma told Killian as he wrote down another name. “He owned a shop near the docks where I first met you.” She smiled at him, hoping to get a smile in return. After a moment, she did.

“His name was Mortimer,” Killian said, laughing at her perplexed expression. She always wondered how he knew everyone’s name, including those she should know herself. “He was a third generation baker.”

They continued on through the list, checking and double checking each one. They determined that none of the relationships from the Enchanted Forest were still intact and none of the children were with their parents. Emma couldn’t help but feel a little pang that she was not the only one separated by the curse. That did not move her any step closer to figuring out how to remove the curse.

“I don’t know how you remember all these people,” she said, sighing dramatically with a yawn. “I can barely remember a third of the subjects.”

His smile was coy as he closed the notepad and put it back in its spot. “I remember seeing you,” he said. “Long before your parents brought you aboard the ship.”

Having sunk down into the pillows next to him, she sat straight up and stared at him with confusion etched across her. “What do you mean?”

“When you were a wee lass, your parents were attending a function and there was a parade through the streets of the village where I grew up. I was but a young lad myself, but my mother and brother insisted we stand and watch the royal carriage go by us.” His eyes danced a bit as she blushed. “You were a pretty blonde thing in your father’s arms, waving to the crowd wildly in comparison your parents’ more controlled gestures.” He grins with the memory, almost feeling the sunshine on his face and his mother’s hand nudging him to look at the royal family as they passed.

“My mother always chastised my wave,” she said, smiling sadly. “She said I would tire myself out if I continued to wave that way.” Such parades and appearances had been a trademark of her childhood. Her mother and father telling her to smile and wave no matter what her troubles, as none of the kingdom needed to know she had skinned her knee or that her favorite toy had broken. She did not remember the parade that Killian spoke of, but he did. There was something blissfully appealing about that early connection he had to her even if it was short.

“I probably wasn’t much impressed with it myself at that age,” he teased. “I can remember you well though. You were wearing a blue and white dress and had ribbons in your hair. One of the villagers presented you with your own baby pig.”

She laughed. “I remember that pig. I wanted to keep it as a pet and my parents insisted that it be given to a poor family.”

“You wanted the piglet as a pet, darling?” He found the image of the young princess chasing after a small animal amusing.

“I was a bit lonely as a child,” she admitted. “I wanted a sibling or a pet to take some of that away.” She looked sadly at him. “That’s why…If the child Regina is caring for is actually my brother…”

Killian sat thoughtfully capping and recapping the pen that had just a few days before seemed such a marvel to him since it required no dip in an ink well. “This may seem a bit of a delicate question, love,” he said. “How would you not know that your mother was with child?”

She smoothed down the soft material of her gown, much as she used to the same with the silk frocks she had worn. The tips of her fingers sought out a loose thread and rolled it between them. “I have thought about that, Killian,” she said. “In the months before they informed me I would be leaving the palace for safety, I was not around my mother much. My father was at the palace and with his advisors much of the time. My mother had gone on what my father called a scouting expedition with Red and some others.”

Killian brushed his fingers along her arm, a comforting gesture that actually made her skin tingle slightly. “If she was not present, then…”

“She may have hidden her condition from me, but why? Why would she hide such a thing? My parents desperately wanted another child for years after my birth, but never had one.” Emma looked hurt. “I wish they had told me the truth.”

***AAA***

She was not sure why exactly Killian had been reluctant for her to see Mr. Gold again, but she had insisted. “I don’t know why, Killian, but I believe he is the key to this. I have to see.”

Emma stood looking over the soft leather bound book on the counter of the pawn shop, her fingers tracing over the words. “This belonged to Liam Jones, did it not?” she asked Mr. Gold. There was a coolness in the shop, a draft that had never been addressed. Quirking an eyebrow at the man, she sighed. “Isn’t it?”

The man reluctantly looked up from the watch he was attempting to clean and polish. Looking distinctly uninterested, the man leaned forward and wrinkled his nose at the yellowed pages. “It’s quite old and probably hasn’t seen its owner in years,” he told her, returning to his work. “Did you really come here to ask me about a book?”

She closed the leather bound volume with the naval seal on the top, her hand brushing across it once more. Maybe it would give her strength, she thought. “You asked me the other day why I was so interested in those two patients,” she reminded him. “You seemed to think that you could help me if I told you about them.”

“I am not much for repeated conversations, but please continue,” the man said. “I’m sure I’ll find your story interesting since you ran from here the other day without offering an explanation. I assumed that you would not want my help.”

“I think that one of those patients is Liam Jones,” she said, offering only a piece of the information. Killian had told her to watch his eyes when she revealed it, watch the way he reacts to the idea.

There was not so much as a flinch from him. “That would be an interesting turn of events,” the man said, placing the watch in the velvet lined box. “What draws you to that conclusion?”

“It is just supposition,” Emma said, rocking back on her heels. “I just get a feeling that…”

“Dearie, I get a great many feelings. And like you I trust very few. So I’m going to need more than that.”

Emma cleared her throat, looking at the man’s eyes closely. Killian had said there would be something in them, but he was wrong. She saw coldness. He was growing disinterested, as she could tell by the way he darted his eyes over to the clock on the wall. She was not winning this battle. “I don’t think you would believe me if I told you,” she said, trying one last tactic.

“We will never know if you don’t tell me,” the man said. “I am sure you have much to do today, as do I.”

***AAA***

The man standing in front of Liam showed no signs of frustration as he methodically went through his list of questions with the patient. On the other hand, Liam found the process tedious. Of course he remembered his parents, who were both dead now. No, he’d never had a brother. He’d never served in the navy, but he did enjoy fishing on the weekends.

Killian stood just outside the door, his head lowered and his hands bracing the back of his neck. His brother had no serviceable memory of him, which was bad enough, but it also added to the fact that nobody knew what had happened to the ship nor its crew after Killian and Emma had set away from it.

The tall man with the thin glasses and rust colored hair left the room a few moments later, leaving the door partially open and saying nothing to Killian on his exit. The younger naval officer took several deep breaths and prepared to enter the room again, afraid not that he’d find his brother suffering. To the contrary, he feared he would find his brother with apathy in his eyes and coldness toward him.

Victor had been by twice, confirming that the two men’s blood type was the same and that it was strongly suggested they were related. That was not news to Killian who longed to feel the shoulder slap of his proud older brother and the warm hug of a man who had nearly raised him.

“Physically we can find nothing wrong with him,” Victor continued, peeking in the room to see Liam thumbing through an outdated magazine. “However, I am quite concerned since he seems so adamant that he does not know you.”

Killian could only nod and pretend that he knew what to say when the questions came along. Victor would not believe him, but still he wanted to think for a moment that he had an ally.

“If I was to send him home with you, could you care for him? Is Emma able to help you?”

The two discuss logistics, Killian worrying that Granny’s not suitable for his brother’s convalescence and Victor stating there are few viable options when it comes to Storybrooke real estate. “I don’t know that he would willingly come back with me,” Killian deliberated. “He’s a bit of a stubborn arse when you get down to it.”

Victor chuckled. “I’m having dinner with Ruby tonight,” he said. “I see about a room for your brother and we’ll continue his therapy on an outpatient basis.”

***AAA***

Emma was frustrated as she slid another form into another folder, her jaw aching from the tension of holding it so tightly. Slamming the drawer of the file cabinet shut just a little too loudly, she flinched and waited for Graham to say something about it. He merely snickered and returned to his own paperwork.

She stomped toward the spare desk he had let her use, throwing herself in her chair. Not used to the wheels, she slid a bit and tried to regain her balance.

“If the stress is already getting to you on your first day, you might want to consider another career.”

Emma glared at Graham, her nostrils flaring at the insult veiled as constructive feedback. “I’m fine,” she declared. Petulance was evident in her voice and for a moment she was back in the palace refusing to go for a riding lesson with the instructor who won’t allow her to ride astride.

“Never doubted that you were,” Graham said, crunching loudly on a red apple that had been in his messenger bag. “You’re probably just the type who enjoys abusing office furniture.”

She looked a bit chagrinned as she tried to feed new staples into stapler and tries to not look so annoyed. “I wanted to talk to Mr. Gold today about something in his shop,” she admitted. “He’s very cryptic.”

Graham chewed at the apple and considered his words. “He’s always been that way that I can remember. No record though, and no reason to have one that I can see. He’s got a sinister look about him, but so do a lot of people.”

Emma frowned. “I just thought he might have some answers for me.”

“Answers rarely come from questions,” Graham told her, biting into the red fruit again. “I have found they usually come from just listening. People are usually honest without even realizing it. Watch people. They’ll tell you who they are without you even having to ask the question.” He looked at her curiously as she watched him roll the half-eaten apple in his hand. “Do you want one? I may have another in my bag.”

She wrinkled her nose with distaste. “No, thank you,” she said. “I have never cared for apples.”

“Really? I thought everyone liked apples.”

The shudder that ran through Emma shook the paper she held. “No, my mother hated them so much she never allowed them in the kitchen.”

 


	26. Chapter 26

Killian might have had some worry that Emma’s feelings would change if her parents were to return to their former roles, but she was not thinking that way. She woke up again that morning with her arm curled around his side and her face buried into his neck. She felt comfortable there with him, warm and solaced from the intrusions of the day.

She had learned that the little sounds he made as she moved against him were not signs that he was uncomfortable, but sometimes just a response that acknowledged her. “You are the same if you are waking or falling into slumber,” he told her, his eyes shut tight and one hand on her back and the other on her arm. “You wiggle like a recently born pup.”

She laughed at his observation, her chin digging into her collar. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said, her voice showing little remorse. “We should be quite accustomed by now.”

Tilting his own head on the pillow, he rested a stubble covered cheek on the top of her head. “Any ideas how to move forward today?” he asked. It was a question that had come up each day and morning, one that she wondered if they would be able to answer. Sometimes she wondered if she was like Killian in that way, unable to answer because of fear of what that would mean.

“I can’t help but think that this Mr. Gold is a key,” she said. “I suspect I would know who he is had I ever seen him before.” She glowered at the thought. “I despise not knowing, but worse yet, I think he knows who I am. I just feel it when he looks upon me.”

Killian laid quietly for a moment, considering the information. “If anyone had their memories and knowledge of our real lives, I suppose it would behoove them to keep that information quiet. One would think them completely mad otherwise.”

She laced her fingers through his, looking at the way their hands fit into each other. “In this place I feel like you are the only person who really knows me,” she said. “I suppose it was that way on the ship as well. When you try, you can see past everything.”

The darkness of his lashes and the way his hair fell lightly on his forehead seemed to cast shadows across his face. “Emma,” he said almost regretfully, “I try to see you for the beautiful woman you are, but I cannot forget that you are a princess and far outside of what I would ever be allowed to court if circumstances were normal.”

“They aren’t normal,” she reminded him, her hand tightening with his. “Nothing about this place is normal. Even the people we know aren’t normal.”

***AAA***

Mary Margaret had called to her from the small bakery, waving furiously and pointing to the little cup she held. “Café Au Lait and beignets,” she said, beckoning Emma inside. “It’s like New Orleans in here.”

Emma grinned at her mother’s excitement, remembering similar states of her mother pulling her along for some new food item, to hear the band play in the town square, or to see a shooting star. No matter how many battles her mother had fought, how much she had lost, and how heartbroken she had been, Snow White was always looking for the good in something. “I’ve never been there,” her mother continued, sipping on the light colored drink. “But these are to die for – try one.”

Emma bit into the puffy pillow with powdered sugar coating her finger tips and lips. Her eyes widened in delight. “Those are wonderful,” she said after swallowing the first bite. “Heavenly.”

Her mother’s cheeks rose with a practiced smile. “Don’t tell Granny, but these may become my new go to thing in this town,” she said with a giggle.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Emma said, enjoying the light side of her mother’s demeanor.

Her mother ordered her one of the small coffee drinks and waited until the waitress had gone to lean over conspiratorially. “With everything that happened, I haven’t asked about your date night with Killian,” she whispered. “How was it? Ruby doesn’t focus on the right details so I need to know from you. Was it romantic? Where did you guys go? What did you do?”

Emma gaped a bit at her mother’s enthusiasm, as the date seemed years ago after all that had happened. “It was…” She faltered a bit, not knowing exactly how to talk about this with her mother who didn’t know she was her mother.

Mary Margaret sat back. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m being pushy. I don’t mean to be. It’s just that it has been a long time since I’ve had a date that was worth talking about. Actually…I don’t remember having that good of a date ever.”

Emma laughed at her mother’s dramatic sigh of her love life, thinking briefly how her parents had been the brightest example of love and affection she had ever seen. “What are you doing on this side of town anyway?” Emma asked, sipping on her own drink as it was delivered. “Don’t you have to be at the school?”

Mary Margaret shrugged. “I am headed that way, but needed some nourishment. So I ran in here for a quick bite. The students and I are going to do some volunteer work at the hospital.”

Emma asked her about this volunteer job, learning that her mother visited the different wards to deliver flowers, read to patients, and offer an ear to those who wanted to talk. When prodded, the teacher admitted she had been to the long term care unit before and had heard about the young man who had woken, including the fact that he was thought to be Killian’s brother.

The café was crowded with even only five customers, but that did not stop Emma from noticing when Graham walked through the door. He delivered a half smile and quick nod to the two ladies, ordering his own drink and waiting as it was prepared.

“I can’t believe you’re working for him now,” Mary Margaret said quietly. “Isn’t that a bit awkward after the whole arrest incident.”

Emma could feel his glances darting in her direction and returned her own gaze to the liquid in her up. “He’s been very kind,” Emma told her mother. “He was just doing his job to arrest me.”

The teacher gave him a stern glare and patted her companion on the arm. “You’re a better woman than me,” she said. “I couldn’t stand to look at that smug face after all that.”

***AAA***

Victor acknowledged the grease stained bag enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around Ruby to thank her for the lunch time treat. She was looking a bit more tired than he had seen her, the high cheekbones more pronounced and her eyes drawn.

“You aren’t coming down with something, are you?” he asked, digging into the bag.

“Just can’t sleep,” she said, settling herself on the edge of his desk and letting her hand toy with the stapler. “I’ve been spending a lot of time concentrating on Emma and Killian.”

He shoved a fry in his mouth, chewing on the warm, skinny, fried potato. “Are they that loud?” he asked, eyes widening in surprise. “Hear anything really kinky?”

She slapped her free hand on his chest against the stark white doctor’s coat. “Stop being a pervert,” she said. “I’m not talking about sex. For once. I’m talking about the fact that they pretty odd. Do you think they’re hiding something?”

Victor grabbed another fry and sank his teeth into it. “Well, we are talking about a woman who broke into the hospital computer system and then snuck onto a limited access floor. And I can’t I completely trust Killian. Hell, the man hasn’t even flirted with any of the nurses here.” Victor pointed a finger at Ruby. “I don’t see anything out of the ordinary.”

The waitress rolled her eyes. “It can’t be that limited access,” she rebuked. “You have half the elementary school up there right now.”

“Is there a point to this conversation that doesn’t seem to have anything to do with us?” Victor asked, pushing back against his chair. “I’m getting bored.” His hand ran along the seam of her tightly fitting pants.

“You have a one track mind,” She said, holding out another fry to him. “I’m trying to be serious. Do you think they could be spies or something?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. When you put your nose to the trail, you usually get your man.”

***AAA***

There was laughter in Liam’s room, echoing into the hallway where Killian stood listening to the discharge nurse’s instructions. It had been decided that Killian would go to Granny’s, the last place he could recall staying. There was a part of the lieutenant that appreciated that his brother would be so close. The other part of him dreaded the intrusion by yet another who did not remember or know him.

Killian looked at his feet as he shuffled nervously into the room, waiting on Liam to acknowledge him. The older brother did. “Dr. Whale has said you’ve been here every day,” Liam said with an odd smile on his face. “You’ve been quite persistent that I’m your brother.”

Nodding, Killian held his breath for the next statement. When none came, he looked up. “I assure you that you are,” he stated.

Liam shook his head a bit. “Dr. Hopper, Dr. Whale, and well everyone has convinced me that this fogginess in my brain is perfectly normal,” the man joked. “I will just have to keep that as a talisman around my neck until my good senses improve.”

“They are letting you come home today,” Killian said with a slight smile, hoping that his brother was not about to push him aside.

“Have they?” Liam’s fingers scratched at the side of his head. “I suppose that is why they were asking me about the last place I remember living. I lived at Granny’s. I just don’t quite…”

“Don’t quite what?” Killian’s question hung in the air between the muffled intercom calls and the sounds of monitors in the adjoining rooms. His brother sat with arms folded and the stiff hospital gown riding up slightly.

“I should know things,” Liam said with a bewildered shrug. “Where are my clothes? Where are my belongings? I woke up here with memories, but not one person can confirm them. You insist that you’re my brother, but again, nobody confirms that any of this is true.” He let out a frustrated grunt, knitting his brow together as he watched the younger of the two brothers stare at his feet. “I suppose you won’t offer any explanation either?”

“None that would make sense,” Killian said solemnly. “I do propose that you allow me to help care for you at Granny’s. We can see what we can do to return your memories. I know this must be demanding of your sensibilities, but you can trust me. I swear to you…”

Liam glowered at the man, his complexion reddening with frustration and anger. “I don’t have much choice, do I?”

***AAA***

Emma carried the filmy like paper in her hands as she walked the couple of blocks to where the witness for Graham’s upcoming case lived. The woman had been hesitant to ask for time off from work without some sort of written and official reason to give to her boss. She was thinking how horribly shaken the woman had sounded on the phone, how distraught and distrustful. It was no wonder that she did not see Graham until he was practically on top of her.

“Graham,” she said, picking the yellow paper off the sidewalk. “What are you doing here?”

He seemed a bit shocked, maybe to see her or maybe something else. “I’m fine,” he stammered, touching her elbow to settle her upright and then pulling back as though she burnt his skin. “And you?”

She dusted off her jacket, looking toward the manicured landscape of the two story house. “You were here?” she asked, suddenly seeing the name Mills on the mailbox. “Regina?”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “Emma, I’m…”

She realized the look was one of guilt, a mixture of regret and embarrassment flushed across his face as his eyes flew open and the air whooshed out of his nostrils. She held a hand up to him, refusing to allow him the privilege of an explanation that she did not need or deserve. Her own expressionless face gave him no clue as to the disappointment she felt in seeing him leave Regina’s home, her eyes shuttering closed, her smile no nonsense. She had turned on the deep freeze.

He wasn't expecting anything less. Actually, he had expected a little more. He had imagined her yelling, attacking him verbally with accusations and painful truths; hell, he'd even prepared for a few smacks across his face. But this coldness, this meaningless encounter, was a lot more hurtful. He deserved it and he knew it, even if he didn't like it. "Emma," he said, determined to remain friendly, "I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I thought that you would have been gone by now." Her eyebrow raised in question when he said her name, letting it roll off his tongue like smooth silk. He wondered what that little motion meant.

It was not jealousy she felt, instead it was a sense of disappointment that he was as she feared. She could hardly trust a man who was intimately involved with her step-grandmother, a woman who had been rumored to have used him a toy and a pet. It was not lost on her that of all the things that had changed from Mist Haven to the Enchanted Forest, this was not one of them. Regina still had her claws in him.

She could have cheerfully slapped him hard across his face, hoping to knock some sense into him. How dare he act this way? How dare he act as though she was the one in the wrong for being on the sidewalk in time to see his escape from Regina’s house? He had no right. But letting him see the anger seething inside of her would only satisfy him. She'd be damned if she'd give him even one iota of happiness or pride that he was attempting to play her. He was on Regina’s side, obviously. Why was he even attempting to help her against a woman who was clearly against her? "Yes, well, Sheriff," she replied, "is there a problem?"

***AAA***

To say that his brother was frustrating to him would have been an accurate statement in either realm. Killian sat on the bed with his back to the headboard and did what most little brothers are known to do, sulk. Granny and Ruby had made up a room for Liam, just next door to Killian and Emma. They had fussed over him, promised him that they would bring his dinner to his bedside and discussed the possibility of extra blankets endlessly.

Had he gone to bed? Rested from the journey to the bed and breakfast, taken them up on the offer for additional food? No. He was downstairs chatting it up with the help as they went through the motions of closing down the diner. Liam had never been immune to the wiles of a beautiful woman, but the man downstairs was drooling over them, Killian thought. He was blundering and blubbering instead of being the sea captain with charm and a disarming smile. He did not even want to imagine what was going on with his brother.

“You have a steady hand there, love,” Liam said to the waitress with the sandy blonde hair. “You must be very accurate?”

Emma watched the woman’s expression become drawn and tight. Stepping next to the empty stool at Liam’s right, she shook herself free of her jacket. “You are looking well, Liam,” she said with a smile. “I expected that you would be in your room resting.”

He reluctantly pulled his eyes from the waitress and settled them on Emma, regarding her curiously. “Do I know you?”

She stuck her hand out, a gesture she had learned was suitable for women in Storybrooke. He took it gingerly and waited for her to explain. “I’m Emma,” she said, hoping that the name would spark something in him. When his eyes remained neutral, she continued. “I’m…”

“Ahhh…you’re the woman my supposed brother talks about,” Liam said. “Good to know the man isn’t a complete idiot. He at least has good taste in women.” Liam tilted his head to the side and ran his eyes up her long form. “Are you going to hound me about getting to bed and resting?”

“I’m merely trying to ascertain why you might be down here alone,” she stated. “Where is Killian?”

Liam took a swig of his drink, shifting his gaze from her toward another of the women. “He was too interested in talking family and memories,” he announced. “I prefer to live in the moment. He seems like a good kid though.”


	27. Chapter 27

**_Again, sorry for the delay. I have had a rough week and did not feel much like writing. This chapter is a bit shorter than normal, but it is chocked full of important stuff. I know it will raise questions, but I promise, we’re getting to the point that all will be revealed. Trust me._ **

The hospital lights were dim after visiting hours were over, dark corners and the low hum of machines the only signs of life in areas that rarely saw human interaction. Victor rubbed his temples and wished for something stronger than stale coffee to imbibe in on a night when everything seemed so quiet. His tired eyes sought out any other human on the rotation, someone to commiserate with and discuss anything from the latest ball scores to why did the hospital policy seem so stringent on the length of the nurses’ skirts. Resting on Killian, he regarded the way that the man still seemed somewhat ill at ease with the whole scene of the hospital, his hands nimbly but unsurely sorting and researching what was needed. Victor slid the cup toward him and shrugged. “I think you’ve got another four hours on your shift,” the doctor said. “No use yawning your way through it.”

The grin that Killian returned was one of thankfulness as he downed the dark liquid in just a few gulps. “I appreciate it,” he told Victor, shuffling the papers again in search of the information form that was supposed to be on top of each file.

Victor asked about Liam, questioned his sleeping habits, and even inquired about Emma’s current state of mind with the developments. Killian answered as best he could, offering no unnecessary information. He did not even ask when his brother might regain his memories, knowing that the doctor was unlikely to know since he dealt in science and not curses.

Victor tapped out a staccato beat with his fingers on the worn counter surface and watched the other man continue his paper shuffling and filing. “You know there are strange things here,” he said, his voice almost ominous. “I can’t really explain them and nobody else can either. But you notice them too, don’t you?”

Killian’s head shot up quickly, his eyes widened with both fear and surprise. Was that a question? An accusation? He was not sure. “I would imagine that every place has its quirks,” he said noncommittally. “Storybrooke is no different.”

There was a thoughtful but brief nod from Victor. “Ever ride the elevator?” the man said. “Or better yet. Ever wait for it on the first floor.”

The contraption scared Killian a bit, if he were being honest. He preferred the stairs and usually took them instead. But he knew people noticed and watched so he did use it from time to time to at least keep the gossip down a bit. “Of course,” Killian answered, quirking an eyebrow at the question.

“The hospital is two stories tall,” Victor said, placing his hands one over the other as if he needed to visually explain what he meant. “There’s a first floor and a top floor. When you’re on the top floor the only choice for the elevator is to go down. And one would assume that on the first floor the only choice would be to go up.”

Killian tried to visualize the circular buttons that held the glowing arrows. “Yes,” he answered slowly, waiting for the response.

“Ever wonder why there is a down arrow outside the first floor service elevator shaft?” Victor asked. He did not wait for the answer, turning quickly and ignoring the confused grunt from Killian.

***AAA***

Emma had to admit that Liam’s eyes were just as striking as his brothers, though maybe not quite the same. They lacked the warmth of Killian’s, perhaps marred by being a few years older. She ran her fork through the eggs on her plate, waiting for him to say something back to her. He was not in a talkative mood.

“Killian should be back soon,” she remarked, hoping that might spark his interest.

“That’s good,” he responded in a lackluster tone.

“He was hoping to talk to you about…”

Liam’s pursed lips and angry glance was shot in Emma’s direction. “I’m trying very hard not to be annoyed, but you have to admit this is a strange set of circumstances. I have knowledge of who I am. I have memories. His version slaps in the face of all that I do remember…”

“But you must question it,” Emma protested, her blonde hair bouncing at bit as she hit her fork onto her plate a little too forcefully. She frowned a bit at her own lack of control. “If you didn’t question it, you wouldn’t still be trying to figure out why Killian and those tests both indicate that you are brothers.”

Small lines appeared on the bridge of Liam’s nose as he looked at the woman across from him. “Emma, I don’t have explanations for what your boyfriend says about me. I don’t even know that I’m supposed to care or do more than placate this little fantasy for him.”

She closed her eyes briefly, searching for the words to make him understand. “You are brothers,” she said more vehemently. “You served in the navy together. You did everything together. You love your brother. You want to protect him.”

“The navy?” Liam asked incredulously. “I hardly think that is possible. I’m not a man who enjoys the sea.”

“But you are,” Emma protested. “You are. You just don’t remember…”

“I don’t need to remember every bit of my past to know that this is just some elaborate scheme to do…I don’t know…something to me,” Liam answered back in a booming tone. “I don’t know what it is that you and Killian want of me, but you won’t get it. I’m not going to let you fill my head with nonsense.”

Emma apologized for upsetting him, slipping out of the booth as Granny and Ruby eyed her suspiciously. “I have to check on the laundry,” she told him, leaving her half eaten plate on the table across from him. “I’ll be back.”

The door swung behind her as she entered the side room where Granny housed a few washers and dryers. The floor of the room sloped and the roof seemed low in what someone had said was meant to be a porch. A young blonde woman stood waiting for the inevitable buzz of the dryer, cradling a small baby against her heavily pregnant form.

Emma nodded a hello and peered at the timer on the dryer to determine how much longer she had left. The woman’s name was Ashley, her face kind and her demeanor sweet. Her hair was pulled back from her face into a messy knot with a few errant strands falling in front of her. She attempted to brush them back with a puff of air, but her attention was focused on the wiggling infant in her arms.

“Who’s a happy baby?” the woman crooned at the little bundle. “Who’s the happiest baby ever?”

Emma could not help but look at the tiny infant, wondering what had the usually stoic woman sounding so schmaltzy. Her breath caught as she stared into the familiar face of the child she thought to possibly be her own brother. “Is that…” Emma said, unsure how to finish the sentence. The young woman certainly did not need to be brought into the fold on supposition and guessing.

“The mayor’s son,” Ashley confirmed, giving child a little bounce. “She was called away unexpectedly and I agreed to watch him. He’s adorable, isn’t he?”

Ashley swung the baby in Emma’s direction, the soft scent of talcum wafting upward. Emma’s hands shook as she held them back from grabbing and embracing him, tears threatening to pour from her eyes. “He’s perfect,” Emma muttered.

“I hope my baby is half as…” the woman looked upset as she broke off.

Emma might have said more, as might have Ashley, but Granny interrupted the two and indicated that Ashley had a phone call that had to be taken immediately. The young woman shifted her weight and looked to Emma apologetically. “Do you mind?” she asked, dropping the bundled up boy into Emma’s arms.

She did not even hear Ashley leave, the tiny babe in her arms gathering her full attention. His perfect fingers balled into a fist, crystal blue eyes regarding her carefully with his bow like mouth curling into a semblance of a smile. She swayed a bit, cradling him against her and dreading the moment his weight was no longer in her arms. “You’re my little brother, aren’t you?” she asked him in a soft whisper. “Aren’t you?”

The baby’s wrinkled fingers touched her face as she leaned over him, the tiny pads touching her soft skin. She gasped at the contact, feeling a warmth there that she had to believe was real rather than imagined. The thought that her step-grandmother was raising the child of her parents was weighing heavily upon her, imagining the torment her brother might endure. She wished for a moment that she might run away with him, escape from the town and the people, but she knew it would be impossible. Looking at his helpless and innocent face, she wondered if that was what Killian now felt when he saw Liam. Did Liam think that back when Killian was born?

“Emma?” Ruby’s questioning tone sounded odd. The blonde looked up and frowned at the waitress’s worried expression. “Liam seems a little agitated.”

Emma followed the woman into the diner with the baby still in her arms. He whimpered a bit from the brighter lights overhead, quickly settled into Emma’s embrace. She stared at Liam, the man’s shoulders slumped and his breath heavy as he clutched his hands to the back of a chair. “Liam?”

“Stop it,” he demanded, eyes clenched and muscles twitching from the tightness. “Stop it now!”

“It’s quite alright, Liam,” she said as soothingly as she could. “Just look at me. Liam?”

He seemed to shudder as she stepped toward him. His voice breaking without forming words.

“What happened?” Emma asked Ruby, cupping a hand around the baby’s face as though he might see something he didn’t need to see. “What made him…”

“Mr. Gold came in about this week’s receipts,” Ruby explained, worriedly tugging at the neckline of her top. “Liam took one look at him and freaked out.”

Emma sighed, unsure what this all meant. “Can you help me get him up to his room?”

“He was on the ship!!” Liam screamed, his voice bouncing around the half-full diner. “I saw him on that damn ship. He told me of the curse of that village. Said nobody would survive it.”

Emma held her brother tighter to her, shielding him as best she could. “Liam, it’s okay. It was just a dream,” she told him. “Just a scary dream. It’ll be fine.”

***AAA***

Killian realized that Victor was right. The service elevator indicated that there was a floor below the first, but that was the only indication of such a place. He walked the perimeter of the building and found no signs of a basement or cellar on the building. There were no indications that any structure existed beyond the first and second floor. He pressed the button, summoning the elevator, but inside it were no signs of how to lower it past that ground floor he knew. He even tried the stairs and found there were no hidden doors or other oddities that might explain it.

Resting his head in his hands, he considered the structure of the building again. He’d seen cellars that were completely submerged, but still it made no sense that one existed in a hospital and nobody knew about it. Someone had to know, Killian decided. So without garnering too much attention, Killian gathered a few of the files and set himself up on the first floor in the break area for employees. From the far table he had a somewhat obstructed view of the elevator that was designated for patient transport and freight. He doubted he’s see anything, but still sat with his eyes half focusing on his work and half on the usually empty wall.

His shift ended and he still sat, unsure what he really wanted to do anyway. Going back to the inn meant facing Emma and Liam. His brother did not know him. Emma seemed to want to pretend that nothing was wrong and they would find a way to be together even after the crown was back atop her head. Grimacing at the empty cup in front of him, he pushed back from the table and went to make his way toward the bank of cabinets where employees pooled their resources for things to eat and put in their coffee. That’s when he saw her.

The dark haired woman looked at no one, her face pinched and eyes unfocused as she jabbed her finger at the down button. He watched her, his mouth falling a bit and a slight gasp at the realization that Regina was using the button. She disappeared into the cavernous hold of the elevator quickly. He could not make out completely what she did, but he saw her twist her hand and the elevator door shut before its descent into the basement.

_**Review?** _


	28. Chapter 28

_**A/N: A guest commented that I had "forgotten about David." I have not. His role in the story is about to increase, but you have to be patient with the story. There is some progress here and a little bit more of the Jones brothers.** _

Emma’s arms ached for her little brother, the small weight that rested there so comfortably and companionably. She had reluctantly handed him back to Ashley, rushing to Liam’s side and getting Ruby to help her return him to his room. Dr. Whale had been called, as had Archie. Both men argued over whether the issue was psychological or neurological while Killian had questioned her to death on what Liam had said about Mr. Gold.

 

“He mentioned a ship?” Killian asked her again, ignoring the fact that she was exhausted and had already had to make excuses to Graham for her tardiness.

 

“Yes,” she said warily. “For the one hundredth time, yes.” She was frustrated, annoyed at his insistence that this was some great moment, as she had already lived it.

 

“It means something,” he insisted. “I know it must.”

 

She threw her jacket over her arm and stood on her tip toes to kiss his cheek. “I have to take my leave,” she reminded him. “I’ll be back later. Try and get some rest.” It was futile request, as he was probably going to pester his brother. She turned to look back at him, Killian already digging into the drawer for their notes.

 

It was like him, she decided. He’d been so studious on the ship. He’d studied every map, every book, every note his brother had left. Even on the island he’d studied the charts and night sky for clues. It was ingrained in him. He was doggedly determined, a man with a mission. She could not compete with that. So when he slammed the door a bit too hard and chased after her to find her on the stairs, she was surprised.

 

“You are remarkably patient with me, love,” he said, stroking her cheek. “More than I deserve.”

 

“Why do you do that?” she asked, tilting her face toward his palm. “You always make yourself sound worse than you are truly.”

 

“Guilt,” he answered with no second thought. “I feel guilty for not wooing you properly. A princess should have a better life than I have been able to show you.”

 

She shook her head, reminding him that such titles did not really matter in their current circumstances. “I’m Emma,” she told him, her voice soothing. “I’m just Emma here. You’re just Killian.”

 

He didn’t respond with words, lightly touching her lips with his and smiling against the end of their kiss. There was a lingering moment where she stayed so close that he could feel her breath on his mouth, sweetly caressing without even touching him.

 

“I will see you later?” she half asked and half stated, her smile hesitant as she readjusted the jacket on her arm. “I hope you get what you want from him.”

 

Killian nodded, promising to see her later. If he closed his eyes he could still see her, the hair on head piled high and the delicate tiara of a princess nestled amongst the curls. Some women were born to wear such finery, their very essence craved it. Others seemed to repel it, preferring simpler pleasures. Emma was a cross between the two, he decided. Her every movement seemed to call attention to her status, but she was not one to dwell upon it. It made her all the more special in his eyes. He waited until she disappeared down the stairs, the thud of the side door shutting as she dashed away.

 

Ruby met him at the door to his brother’s room, a glass with water and straw in her hand. He’d been fascinated the first time he saw such a straw, the plastic folded and bending like an accordion. Killian placed the plastic bendy straw in the glass of water that Ruby had shoved into his hand as he walked back into his brother’s room. Her concerned tone telling him that she had to return to work and tell her if anything else was needed. She had given Victor a quick kiss on the cheek and mumbled well wishes to Liam whose eyes remained closed.

 

“He seems calmer,” Victor told him, the therapist behind him nodding solemnly. “I wouldn’t suggest pushing him too much. It could set him back a bit.”

 

Killian nodded, taking a step toward the bed. “He’s just sleeping, correct?” There was a worry in his eyes and a fear in his tone that contradicted the calmness he tried portray.

 

Victor seemed confused, as the man was clearly resting with his eyes closed. Suddenly it dawned on him that the man before him was worried that Liam had returned to his comatose state. “Oh, he’s going to wake up. I only sedated him since he seemed so agitated.”

 

There was a moment of relief as Killian noted that his brother was lightly breathing with the blankets pulled almost up to his neck as he used to sleep as a child. The doctor and therapist both patted his shoulder as the left, noting medication and suggestions for his ease back into life.

 

“To snore would have been a bit much for the ruse, would it not, brother?” Liam said, his blue eyes flying open and staring knowingly at Killian. “I didn’t think it was good to talk in front of them.”

 

“You…”

 

“I remember,” Liam said matter-of-factly, his captain’s demeanor apparent as he sat up in the bed. “It came as a flash. That horrible man was the impetus, I believe, but then I saw Emma and it clicked. The ship, the curse, the awful illness, the storm. It all made sense.”

 

The baffled expression came back to Killian’s face as his brother looked at him with the earnestness and pride that had been a part of their relationship for years. “You remember,” Killian answered, a breathless pause halting his speech.

 

***AAA***

 

Graham had not given her much information, only stating that Mr. Gold had called and requested a report be filed after something went missing from his shop. “He’s not asking that you investigate,” the man said to her. “Just look around. Write down what he says. Come back here. Simple?”

 

She rolled her eyes, grabbing the forms she needed and hurried from the station toward the pawn shop. It wasn’t that far of a walk and her feet hurried along the sidewalk with determination she had admit was a bit addicting. The adrenaline and the rush of feeling needed and important was one that she did kind of enjoy. She’d watched her father rescue people, save the kingdom, and fight side by side with her mother. She’d seen her mother’s strength and prowess on display, but never had she experienced anything of the kind when it came to herself.

 

If Mr. Gold was surprised to see her instead of Graham, he did not express it. In fact, he expressed the opposite and told her that he had requested her presence rather than the sheriff.

 

“I’m not sure I understand,” she said, brushing her hair back from her face with her hand.

 

“Discretion, my dear,” the man said, offering one of his sickeningly sweet smiles. “You are capable of that, but the sheriff is not. He has not even been able to fully hide his intimacy with the mayor.”

 

Emma frowned at the reminder, not sure why that bothered her so much. “Why do you need discretion for an act of petty theft against you?”

 

Mr. Gold’s long fingers seemed to brush her concern aside as he flipped through the pages of a dusty tome and looked for all the world to see as a man searching for something. “I wished to ask about the young man first,” he said. “He was quite upset when he saw me. Kept mumbling something about illness and a ship. He did not seem well.”

 

“He’s resting,” Emma offered, not knowing what else to say.

 

“Perhaps that was it,” Mr. Gold said, looking up briefly from the book. “It must be quite exhausting to try to put together a life when you have been unconscious from the world for quite some time.”

 

Emma cleared her throat, unwilling to discuss with him Liam’s journey or the fact that all of them were living different lives than they should. That was a discussion for two people who trusted each other or at least had understanding. It felt too much like he was attempting to extract information rather than share it. “You said that there had been a break in?”

 

He chuckled at her blatant attempt to change the subject. “I deal in antiquities,” he said as though the evidence around them did not already spell it out. “People assume, and rightly so, that most of them are worthless and useless little trinkets.”

 

Emma pursed her lips and looked about the cluttered shelves and displays of the store. “You don’t seem to do a great deal of business,” she noted. “And most of the items are not really that useful here in this…place.”

 

He smiled at her, his hands leaving the book and running along one of the shelves with a few oddly matched items. “Do you recognize any of them?” he asked. “Anything that speaks to you?”

 

She again frowned, the lines of her forehead digging a bit deeper. “I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Gold,” she said. “You called about some sort of theft, but you don’t wish to report it to the sheriff because of the need for discretion. You don’t seem to even be telling me what item was stolen.”

 

“My dear,” he said, patience seemingly oozing from him. “The object and perpetrator are linked. One cannot say the name of one without the other.”

 

She let out a frustrated sigh. “Let’s try this again,” she said. “What is missing?”

 

***AAA***

 

“Rumpelstiltskin?” Killian looked to his brother incredulously, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands cradling his own face. “That man can’t be…”

 

“But he is,” Liam said with little emotion. “I did not realize it in that little village, but he is the man who disguised himself and told me of a curse that inflicted those who visited the village. It seemed strange at the time, as nobody else ever spoke of it. Wouldn’t you think that a bar keep or a trader would have spoken of it? But then when we set sail I was living it all again. The illness that we could not explain took over so completely.”

 

Killian closed his eyes. “But if he was in disguise…”

 

“I know what I should like,” Liam said, his fists balling up the blankets around him. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m just telling you that this Mr. Gold is Rumpelstiltskin. He cannot be trusted.”

 

“Of course he can’t,” Killian muttered, his face pale with the realization that he had actually suggested Emma get to the bottom of the man’s hidden agenda. He might have sent her into the mouth of the lion simply out of desperation for some answers to this unending riddle. “He’s the bloody Dark One.”

 

“Aye,” Liam answered. “He has few weaknesses, but he surely knows those of his foes.”

 

***AAA***

 

Emma crossed the lobby of the hospital and was for once glad that Killian was not there. She knew that Victor had told Killian to watch over Liam, hoping that the two could reach some understanding and quietness rather than the tension of the past few days. The hard soles of her boots echoed on the floor as she realized again how few people actually frequented the halls of the hospital.

 

The few times her father had spoken of the impending curse, she remembered him saying that her step-grandmother had intended it to separate loved ones from each other. Emma supposed that the separation meant that most had no realization that their soul mates and true loves were actually there.

 

“I’m looking for Dr. Whale,” Emma said, her fingers drumming on the information desk in front of a bored looking volunteer. “Can you retrieve him for me.?”

 

The woman seemed annoyed and pressed several buttons of a telephone that looked to be the color of dried clay. Emma rolled her shoulders back and lifted her hands in an almost prayer like pose as she waited for the woman to successfully find him. “Dr. Whale, this is Nancy,” the woman said a bit too formally, breaking out into a giggle at something the man said. “Yes, well…you have a visitor here. A miss…?” She looked expectantly at Emma.

 

“Emma.”

 

The woman cleared her throat. “Emma is here to see you.”

 

Victor must have agreed as the woman laughed and said something about waiting for him. Pointing to a group of chairs, she directed Emma to wait for him.

 

“You didn’t have to page me,” Victor said, his hands resting on the stethoscope around his neck. “Most people…”

 

“My last experience giving myself a tour of this facility led to my arrest,” she reminded him. “I thought it better that I announce my presence this time.”

 

Victor chuckled and waved her into the staff lounge, offering her a coffee before pulling a chair up to the table across from her. “You wanted to see me about something?”

 

“I know that you must be quite suspicious of me,” Emma said, her eyes dropping to her hands. “Apart from my behavior here, I know that Killian and I have not been quite…”

 

The doctor tilted his head curiously, his eyes narrowing in judgment. “Emma, I’m not sure what you’re getting at here,” he said, “but I feel I must stop you. I don’t want to hear a confession. I’m a doctor, a physician, not a priest. I don’t want to know what sins you have committed, nor can I grant you some sort of absolution.”

 

Emma shook her head. “I’m not asking for absolution, Victor,” she said. “I’m asking for answers. I’m asking for your help.”

 

***AAA***

 

Liam and Killian discussed the situation most of the afternoon, but it was not until Ruby had brought them dinner that Emma’s name was even said. Casting a warning glance at his brother, Liam waited on the confession that he was sure was to come.

 

“You don’t listen, brother,” he said, testing a bit of the food before sinking his teeth into it. “Curse or no curse, she is a princess and our job was to protect her. You think that means that you get to share a bed with her every night and touch her as though she was just some…”

 

Holding up a hand, Killian shook his head. “Emma’s not helpless or naïve, Liam,” he said with a stern look. “I care about her a great deal and she cares for me.”

 

“Does she?” the older of the two brothers asked. “I realize that the circumstances here, on the ship, and on that island where you both stayed meant that you were alone with each other in situations that weren’t always proper. Sometimes a woman might cling or align herself with a man simply out of need.”

 

His blue eyes closed as he heard his brother verbalize the fears that had been churning inside of him. “It’s not like that,” he repeated. “Emma’s…”

 

“I don’t want to see you hurt,” Liam said. “I don’t want her to hurt you because that’s the only conclusion to this. She was born to break this curse. She will succeed. Where will that leave you? When she is reunited with her parents and they have taken her back to one of their fine palaces? What of you then? Will they invite you back with them? Is that what you think? You’ll be welcomed into their lives because their daughter sought comfort in your arms?”

 

Killian did not answer his brother. His shaking foundation felt even more unstable with the images that Liam was painting.

 

“They are royalty,” Liam said as though the words were bitter tasting. “She is high born and meant for a life so much more luxurious than one a lieutenant can provide her. Do you think that her parents would want their royal blood mixed with a commoner’s for their grandchildren? She will rule a kingdom someday. So will her children. You cannot think that her family will allow you to have any role in that.”

 

“Liam, please…” The collar of his shirt felt tight and the fabric of the denim pants scratched the skin of his hands as he tried to steady them against his thighs.

 

“No, brother,” Liam said with an emphatic shake of his head. “You must separate yourself from her. You cannot let this continue.”

Spoilers - Next Chapter -   
  
_**Emma encourages her mother to help her wake David.**_  
 _ **Killian and Liam seek out an upper edge with the Dark One.**_ _ **Emma confronts Liam about her relationship with Killian.**_


	29. Chapter 29

**_A/N: I’m glad my last chapter was so well received. This chapter was a tough one to write, as it is easier to think in terms of fluff rather than angst. If you were disliking Liam before, you really will now. But not to worry. He’s about to get a lesson of his own. Don’t hate him too much. He genuinely loves his brother and wants the best for him. He’s just not aware that is Emma yet. Since Emma’s parents are even aware of who she is, someone had to take on that parental responsibility. Otherwise I’d have a hard time keeping Emma and Killian on task without sending them back to the bedroom instead of ending the curse._ **

**_This is a fun story to write, twisting what we saw in Season 1 and making this a new story. You’ll see a bit of that twisting in this chapter. Thanks again for all your feedback._ **

Graham said very little when Emma returned, not even noticing that she had no report to file from Mr. Gold. Shoving a small pink slip of paper at her, he informed her that Killian had called twice, but she ignored the implication and sat back down to her work.

“You look like you haven’t been sleeping well,” she said when she caught him staring off into space for the fourth time in half an hour. The bags under his eyes were dark and deep set and his skin no longer looked soft and supple, but sallow instead.

“Nightmares,” he grumbled, frantically searching for his place on some of the paperwork he needed to complete. He offered her no other explanation.

She let him have his space, spending her time printing out a supply order and making sure that the judge had his paperwork for the latest public drunkenness charge for Leroy. She was just about ready to carry the hefty file down to the courthouse when Graham spoke again.

“Have you seen Miss Blanchard lately?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “I was wondering if she might…” He broke off and managed to look at Emma questioningly.

Emma seemed a little startled by both the question and his interruption. “I’m planning to stop by and see her on my way back to Granny’s,” she said offhandedly. “It’s her day to watch the kids in the after school program.”

He nodded, reminding her that the file needed to arrive to the judge before five and telling her that she could go ahead and go. “I’m sure you have your hands full with everything.”

Emma tried to pretend that the scene was not strange, as she did not need to borrow any more trouble. She was having a hard enough time with Killian, Liam, Victor, Ruby, her mother, and now questions from Mr. Gold. She fulfilled her duties of dropping off the paperwork to the judge and promised that Graham would testify if necessary, though she was not sure that the sheriff could manage much in his current sleepless state.

A few minutes later she arrived at the school and found her mother sitting on a bench outside her classroom with the last few children left after classes had ended. She looked quite young sitting there with the bright plaid skirt with a red sweater and knee length boots. Emma regarded her for a moment, realizing that she had not truly ever looked at her mother in that way. She looked beautiful sitting there, dark hair shining in the muted sunlight. She seemed young, something that Emma had realized almost everyone in Storybrooke seemed.

Approaching, Emma handed her mother a cup of coffee and accepted the warm smile and thanks. She slid down on the bench next to her and broached the question without really hesitating. Victor had suggested it, telling her that in his knowledge that it was often those closest to a coma patient who could wake them up with the sound of their voice or touch of their hands. It wouldn’t be immediate, but perhaps someone close to the patient could break through.

Mary Margaret sipped her coffee and watched the children on the playground, her hands warming themselves around the disposable cup. “You want me to what?” she asked Emma, the toes of her boots digging into the ground beneath the bench. “Are you serious?”

“I hate to ask,” Emma said, throwing her long hair over her shoulders. “It’s just that he’s been showing signs of waking up. I know that if someone took the time to talk to him – to bring him back…” She knew she was lying to her mother and hated it. David showed no signs of life more than any of the other patients.

“Can I at least ask why this patient?” the teacher said after reminding one of the children that the ball belonged to the class and must be shared. “Of all the patients in the long term care ward, why this one?”

Emma fidgeted under her mother’s scrutiny. “I feel a connection to him,” she explained. “I don’t know. It’s like I know him.” It would be a bit hard to explain to a woman who had no memory of the circumstances that she was already married to the man and that their grown daughter was sitting right there before her.

Letting out a sigh, Mary Margret kicked a small pebble with her boot. “Then why aren’t you going to see him? Why me?”

“After my arrest, it’s a bit awkward to be wandering around the hospital,” she answered honestly. “If you’d rather not, I understand. It’s just that I truly think you can make a difference. You could be the voice that wakes him up.” She tried to look hopeful, but that was hard with her mother being perplexed.

“I guess I could try and see how it goes,” the woman said hesitantly. “My God, Emma. This sounds like you setting me up on a date with a coma patient. Is that what this is? Do you think I’m that desperate for a date that I need to date guys who are unconscious?”

“It is not that at all.” Emma smiled innocently and patted her mother’s arm. “I will want a full report though.” It was something that Ruby often said to any of her friends going out on a date. “Details and lots of them.”

The brunette rolled her eyes dramatically. “I wonder what I should wear. What does one wear on a date with a coma patient?”

***AAA***

Killian wished he was like some of the other residents at Granny’s, as they seemed to know how to entertain themselves with that magical box called a television or idly chat about what they had seen on it. He did not understand it or the appeal of it, but as he paced and waited to hear from Emma, he wished he liked the distraction. She had not returned his phone call, but that was not fully surprising. They both hated that phone device too, feeling odd at the sounds of disembodied voices and preferring more personal contact.

“You’re back,” he said, stating the obvious when she rattled her key in the door’s lock. “Finally.”

Emma’s eyes crinkled with her warmly surprised smile. “I’m a full hour earlier than I should be,” she said. “You couldn’t possibly be thinking that I’m somehow tardy.” She dropped her jacket over the chair by what Granny called a desk and Emma referred to as a table. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes showed the panic, but he clenched his fists determinedly and smiled with a tight grin at her. “I just…” He crossed the room in three steps, bracing a hand at her hip and the other on the side of her face, crashing his lips down on hers instead of finishing his wordy explanation. She did not protest, tilting her head back and accepting his kiss while her hands and arms wound back around him. When air became more of a necessity, their broke off their kiss and she smiled up at him.

“Did you truly miss me that much?” she teased.

“Liam remembers everything,” he said, bluntly stating the fact without much concern for breaking it to her gently. “He even remembered who Mr. Gold is back in Mist Haven.”

Her smile faded and she drew herself away from him, the hands that had held to him so tightly now falling to her sides. “Who is he?” she asked, a bit breathless from both the surprise of his announcement and the kiss itself. She wished for a moment that they were still kissing, feeling the change in the air as Killian spoke again.

“The Dark One,” Killian answered, grimacing with the phrase. “Rumpelstiltskin.”

Emma knew that other princesses in nearby kingdoms were known to swoon and faint at the announcement of bad news. She had never been one of those women, always taking the news of even the greatest tragedies with grace. This time was no different, her fists balled at her sides and turned the name over in her head. “He was swept up in the curse as well?”

“It appears so,” Killian explained, sitting himself on the foot of the bed and indicating that she should join him. “He hasn’t been seen in years.”

Emma nodded. “He’d been a prisoner for a long while in my parents’ kingdom,” she acknowledged, perching next to him as if she might need to run from the room. “It was the second time actually. The first was while my mother was expecting me. Then again just before my mother…”

Killian quirked an eyebrow at her waiting for her to continue.

“My mother left for a while not long before they told me of the curse. I never asked, but I was told that he had escaped. So he’s now here in Storybrooke?”

Nodding his head, Killian gathered her hand in his and spoke very softly. “You have had some dealings with him,” he reminded her. “Is it possible that he knows more than we have assumed?” Her shoulder brushed his and he could smell the freshness of the shampoo from that morning’s shower and hint of cinnamon on her breath. Both scents wounded him and intoxicated him as he tried to shake off the feeling that he was somehow a man on an impossible mission, as his brother had said.

“He certainly is not without his secrets,” Emma declared. “He’s…” She smiled at Killian. “Here I thought you had missed me and it was just that you wanted to warn me about Mr. Gold.”

“I did miss you,” he answered, squeezing her hand a bit tighter. “I also wanted to tell you what I have learned.” He repeated Liam’s words to her, leaving out the warnings that he was going to end up with a broken heart. To her credit, he noted, she took in each piece of information and did not shirk away. She even added some of her own, explaining her plan to have her mother try to wake her father.

“Do you think it could work?” Killian asked her when he noticed the way she worriedly chewed at her bottom lip. “Is their love strong enough?” He knew that her admiration for her parents was seemingly boundless, but he could not imagine such a love himself. He’d only ever seen his parents’ relationship as one of dominance and regret. While he knew that he did love Emma, he was still not sure of the mutuality of that, nor the appropriateness of it given his brother’s misgivings.

Emma gave a short and breathy laugh. “I’m not much for the science of this realm,” she said. “But I believe it when Dr. Whale said that sometimes a familiar voice could be all that is needed to bring someone out of the darkness. If that voice is of the one you love, why wouldn’t that be even stronger than just familiar?”

“You are such a hopeful lass,” he said, releasing one of his hands to caress up her arm and then again toward her neck. “I should take a lesson from you.”

She said nothing of his compliment, her eyes locked with his. “Are you sure we can do nothing about Rumpelstiltskin now?” she asked, her voice almost a whine. “I know that he could at least tell us how the curse might be broken.”

Killian dropped their conjoint gaze first. “He’s not a man to be trifled with,” he said solemnly. “We must somehow get an upper hand with him together. There are things that make any man weak, including the Dark One. We will find his weakness and use it to our benefit, love.”

Emma smiled that he was including her in on this plan even it was still nebulous and vague. Suddenly she shot back from him. “That’s it, Killian!”

He shook off his confusion, watching her excitedly try to do the same. “What’s it?”

“Love,” she said, as though the one word explained everything. “He was married before, had a son. That’s the story anyway. But I remember my parents speaking of another woman he loved. A woman named Belle.”

***AAA***

Liam bowed his head toward Emma as she and Killian entered his room. “It is a pleasure to see you, your highness,” he said, formality strong in his tone. She might not look like the princess in her modern clothes of jeans and slim fitting shirt, but he knew that was her identity and place.

“That isn’t necessary,” she told him as Killian reached beyond the headboard of the bed to readjust the drapes to avoid the glare of the setting sun. “I’m just Emma here.”

“You can’t hide you are born to be,” he argued. The idea that he was receiving royalty in his bedchamber as he hid from the rest of the town to avoid discovery that his memories had returned was not lost on the captain. However, Killian had been right that the town was already suspicious of the two of them without Liam joining in with the whispered chatter of other realms, magic, and true love.

She frowned at him, feeling the warmth of Killian by her side when the younger brother defiantly sat next to her rather than pulling the chair over from the table. “I’m not here to quarrel with you, Liam,” she said, letting her shoulder touch Killian’s and resisting the urge to cling to his hand as it brushes against her thigh. The look was not lost on Liam, and he returned her frown with one of his own.

“You would surely lose if that was what she had on her mind,” the lieutenant teased with an edge to his voice. “But she is correct. Emma has thought of something we might be missing in terms of Rumpelstiltskin.” He nudged her a bit, a look of pride overtaking him as she explained what she knew of the story of the man and a woman named Belle.

Liam’s own expression went from doubt to excitement as he said he too had heard of the woman. However, none of them knew what became of her. “I wish there was someone to ask,” he admitted reluctantly. “I know that by the time your family was keeping him captive that she was no longer in his home. She was also not back with her father. So I don’t know where she might be now. She might not even be alive, let alone here with the curse.”

“But it is worth our investigation,” Emma insisted, smiling at the recognition of her idea. “We could…”

“Killian and I will find her if she is here,” Liam interrupted. “You shouldn’t be focusing on such details. Let us do this and we’ll let you know of what we find.”

Emma opened her mouth to protest, to remind him that she worked in the one place that tracked people down, and that this had been her idea and not his. However, she felt Killian tense next to her and thought better of it. She did not want to upset the balance between the brothers. Better to let Liam think that she was uninvolved than to argue her point for the same result.

“Now that that’s settled,” Liam said, readjusting his blankets about his waist. “I am glad you are both here. I spoke to the inn keeper about the availability of rooms.”

Emma glanced at Killian, his face pale as his brother spoke. “You mean Granny?”

Liam offered a tight lipped smile. “Yes,” he said. “I suppose most people do call her Granny. She said that she will see to it that another room is made up for Killian. I thought it best that we all stay on this same floor and she agreed.”

Emma felt a flurry of anger in her chest as she looked back and forth between both men. “You’re moving rooms?” she asked incredulously, ignoring Liam’s presence for a moment. “When was this decided?”

Killian looked to his brother with his own brand of murderous rage and petulance. “Nothing had been decided,” he said through a clenched jaw. “Liam only proposed the subject and brought up the image of impropriety at our sharing a bed. I explained that it was a necessity when we first arrived and had none of the currency that is required here in Storybrooke.”

Still ignoring Liam, Emma backed away from Killian, her cheeks flushed and her blonde hair contrasting with the deep red of shirt. “So that’s what you considered it,” she said, her voice low and barely audible to the man in the bed let alone Killian. “A convenience and a necessity.”

“Emma,” he said, holding his hand out to catch her as she slipped toward the door. “We can discuss…”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to embarrass you and your sense of propriety. I will find my own accommodations. Something more fitting a princess.”

***AAA***

Emma instructed Ruby to keep Killian and Liam away from her as she looked in the section of the newspaper that she’d been told listed places to rent. She was not fully sure how such arrangements worked in Storybrooke, but she sat undeterred with a cup of hot chocolate and a pen as she noted the lack of opportunities.

“Mr. Gold owns most of them,” Ruby warned as she sprinkled a fresh bit of cinnamon over the mug. “I’d not recommend him as a landlord, but he does seem to like you. Well as much as that man likes anyone.”

Emma thanked her for the advice and ignored the earlier question about why Emma was searching without Killian. Ruby had brushed off her own nosiness as just wanting to know for the sake of business at the bed and breakfast, but there was no doubt she was more interested in the sleeping arrangements for her friend.

“I can always make up another room for you here,” Ruby reminded her as she reached in the short apron pocket for her order pad. “No shame in that.”

“I’d rather avoid that,” Emma said ominously, her attention turning to the door as her mother slipped in and shot a smile to both Granny and Ruby before taking the seat across from Emma.

There was a secretive smile playing on the lips of Mary Margaret, eyes dancing with mirth as she ordered a drink similar to Emma’s. “He squeezed my hand,” the teacher said almost gleefully. “I was talking to him and he squeezed my hand. Victor didn’t think that…anyway, he did.”

It took Emma a moment to realize the change in the conversation, but finally realization poured over the blonde haired woman and she smiled back at her excited mother. “That’s great,” she said. “I knew that you would have some connection with him.”

The brunette’s face fell a bit, but she recovered enough to smile back. “I don’t know about that,” she said, delicately running a finger along the edge of the paper napkin. “But you’re right. Maybe it just takes someone paying attention and caring to get through to someone.”

The sad smile on Emma’s face did not go unnoticed as Mary Margaret’s hand reached across to stroke the pen-laden hand. “Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked. “You seem upset?”

Emma shrugged her shoulders and swallowed back the sob that threatened. “I am just frustrated. I need to find a place to live and there aren’t many options.”

Mary Margaret did not press for details, probably seeing the dried tracks of her tears on her cheeks. “I have room,” she said helpfully. “It’s not the most elegant place to live, but I have a bedroom that’s free upstairs in my loft. You could stay as long as you need. It’d be fun actually. I don’t remember the last time that I had a roommate.”

Emm444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888a’s expression softened as she saw her mother’s hopeful one shining back. “I’d like that,” she responded.

***AAA***

Mary Margaret had rushed to the store to pick up a few things, leaving Emma to pack. Ruby donated a suitcase to the cause and told her that she would come to visit the two women soon with popcorn and a DVD. “It’s going to be perfect,” Ruby declared as she cleared the table. “My two best friends living together under one roof. I’ll be over there all the time.”

Emma had amassed more than a few clothes in her short time in Storybrooke both from Ruby and Mary Margaret, as well as a few shopping trips. She folded each and placed them in the wheeled bag, hoping that she could finish before Killian returned. She was not that lucky.

“I didn’t think he was going to do anything,” Killian said to her after she curtly returned his greeting of hello. “You know that I don’t feel…”

Emma tossed in the hairbrush she had picked up and the notepad of her notes and detailed observations. “No, Killian,” she said firmly. “I don’t know. You push me away and tell me that you could not possibly care for a woman who is born into royalty. Then you kiss me and make love to me as though you couldn’t breathe without me in your life. You treat me as though I’m something that needs to be protected, something too fragile to risk. Then you push and encourage me to spy upon the man who turns out to be the Dark One. You object that I should not be made to work because of my parents’ status, but then you tell me that you wish we could run away from all this and just be together. My head is spinning not from love for you, but from the dizzying confusion of trying to understand you.”

“Emma,” he said as she finished. “I do care for you. I care for you much more than I should. My brother is only saying what other people would say if they had their memories. I don’t fit into your world and it is unfair to you to ask you to fit into mine.”

She zipped the bag and lowered it next to her, extending the handle up so that she could grip it in her fist. “Then I don’t know you or how you feel,” she said sadly. “Because it was never about fitting into your life or you fitting into mine. It was only about being with you that I ever cared about or wanted.”

She moved toward the door, her vision already blurring from the tears that she hoped he could not detect. When he stepped in front of her, she sighed raggedly, trying to maneuver around him. He would not budge, instead, pulling her by her free hand toward him. He did not argue with her, did not say any of the things he wanted to say about how he would give up everything for her or how he would go to any lengths to prove his worth to her family when the time came. Instead he lowered his mouth to hers in a kiss that was more about the sweetness of their feelings than the possession or the torment.

She melted against him, their lips melding into the familiar, teeth nipping and tongues dancing slowly and languidly as they stood in the room they had shared. Both knew that she was still going to leave that this was not going to stop her. Both felt the sinking as the seconds ticked by and the kiss deepened into all the words they were not saying. Eyes closed and hands gripping, they forgot for a moment about the walls of odds against them.

**_A/N: I said this chapter would include a confrontation between Emma and Liam. However, after it was written I wasn’t happy with it. So I’m saving it for a bit._ **


	30. Chapter 30

**_A/N: I do have to laugh at the guest’s remarks that I better not have Mary Margaret sleep with Graham. That is not my intention and I’m sorry if you read it that way. I fully support Snowing and Captain Swan. The only couple that will be different in this story will be Belle and Rumple, as you will see in this and the next few chapters. Belle will be taking on a bit of the Henry role since Henry doesn’t exist in this storyline._ **

**_In terms of Graham, you will see that Mary Margaret may encourage Emma a bit in that direction – simply because she wants to see Emma happy even when Killian pushes her away. But no worries. I’m not changing ships here._ **

**_Also I wanted to give Emma and Mary Margaret back some of their connection. I hate seeing them at odds this half-season on the show. So I wanted to explore that roommate dynamic again._ **

The bed was softer than at Granny’s, handmade quilts puffing up the top of the mattress and embroidered pillows along the metal headboard. Mary Margaret had apologized for the old fashioned and shabby furnishings, explaining that she had a thing for thrift shopping. “I like that everything I own has its own story,” she told Emma, giving her a short but insightful tour of the home.

Emma shoved her bag in the corner of her new bedroom, trying her hardest to be unobtrusive. Her mother won’t allow that though. Pulling the bag toward the trunk at the foot of the bed, she unzipped it and began to rummage through the wardrobe for hangers. She handed one to Emma and then took the now hung garment back to place in the wardrobe. They continued at this pace while the teacher explained how to make the television work, which she admitted was tricky since she had lost the remote a few weeks earlier.

“Thank you for this,” Emma said as Mary Margaret bid her good night and headed toward the narrow metal staircase. “You are being very kind.”

Mary Margaret smiled thoughtfully, both hands bracing the banisters. “I know what it is like to feel alone,” she said. “I didn’t want you to feel that way because of whatever happened with Killian.” She knew her mother wanted to ask, pry into the details why she was staying there and why she had packed up everything instead of just enough for overnight.

Emma ducked her head a bit, hoping that her mother would not push her to explain. She did know that her mother understood loneliness, as it had been spoken of quite a bit when Snow White described her days as a bandit. The feeling of only have oneself to rely upon could weigh heavily. “There is a difference between being alone and feeling lonely,” Emma said, repeating a phrase her mother had used once or twice. “I appreciate your help.”

Mary Margaret sighed, looking down at the dark floor below. “You know that I’m not going to pressure you to tell me any of the horrible details. I guess they are horrible, but I might be wrong. Anyway, if you want to talk, then I’m here. I don’t sleep that much. So come down any time you want to talk. I probably even have a bottle of wine and maybe even some chocolate. We could gab the night away and both feel utterly depressed about our love lives.”

***AAA***

Killian didn’t bother to knock as he entered his brother’s room and dropped off the pajamas that he had laundered earlier for him. “I thought you could stand a fresh pair,” he said, the grocery bag slipping from his fingers and the lines of his frown etched in his face.

“She left, did she not?” Liam asked.

“I don’t wish to discuss her any more with you,” Killian answered decisively. “We are no longer on your ship. I am no longer taking orders from you. She is not a princess in need of our services. She’s a woman whom I hurt because you decided that was the proper course of action. Whatever your intentions, I allowed it to happen. I did not stop you. I did not stand up to you. For that I will always be filled with regret.”

The lone light in the room that was shining did not remove all the shadows from the corners, but it did give a little more clarity to Killian’s face. Liam swallowed hard as he watched his brother grimace at the memory of Emma’s departure. The walls were thin and Liam had heard their talk, heard his brother’s anguished cry out of her name long after the door shut and her footsteps quit echoing. He was prepared to tell his brother it was better this way, best to leave her upset than to lose his heart to an unattainable woman. However, the look on Killian’s face was not one that would be assuaged with some simple platitudes about other women and opportunities back home. “She belongs with her family,” he said, settling on the standard idea.

“I don’t wish to discuss her with you,” Killian answered. “However, if you insist, know this, brother.” He drawled out what was usually an affectionate term between them. “I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to her that I allowed her to leave. I will forever hate myself for allowing her to have any one modicum of doubt of my love for her. For you should be able to see it even with your cynical eyes. I do love her. I love her and will not allow your fear for my station and position in life to diminish what I feel for her. If she chooses to live her life as a royal with all the responsibilities that come with that, as you claim she will do, then I will accept that. However, until my dying breath I will cherish the moments I have spent with her and see none of them as wasted or misspent. For even one moment of the happiness I have felt with her is worth more than any year of my life before I met her.”

Killian turned on his heel and placed his hand on the doorknob. “My love for her does not diminish my love for my own brother,” he said. “However, your inability or unwillingness to see past your own prejudices does. We will fight this battle together, for that is what Emma needs us to do. But when we are returned to Mist Haven, you will need to find a new lieutenant. For I will be dedicating myself to being worthy of her love and not living up to your expectations as your younger brother.”

***AAA***

When Killian came downstairs for his breakfast, having told Liam that he thought he’d rather dine with strangers than hidden away, he was greeted by a fierce snarl and glower from Ruby. He ducked his head in response and slid onto one of the stools as she pushed a fresh cup of coffee in front of him so hard that droplets splashed out onto the counter and his skin.

“You’re an idiot,” she declared, waiting with pad and pen poised to take his order. “Is there someone else? Is that it? Because the woman truly loved you and you pushed her away. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Killian eyed his cup of coffee and bit his lip. He’d expected a tongue lashing, expected even more when Mary Margaret saw him next, as she would surely have heard of his cowardice and caddishness from Emma. “I am an idiot,” he admitted. “But not for the reasons you think.”

Ruby slapped a menu down in front of him. “You hurt her,” Ruby said with a fierce growl under her breath. “I would kill you if you weren’t a paying customer and we weren’t in a town that has a jail cell straight out of a bad movie.” She squared off her shoulders. “Besides, I think she has the right to kill you if she so chooses. She’s tough and could do it too.”

“I don’t doubt that either of you could inflict a fatal blow,” Killian acknowledged.

She took his order and placed the little slip of paper on the carousel that she sent flying with a spin. Already at the next customer, she barely noticed when Emma and Mary Margaret walked in and took their places a table near the door. She had planned on sending one of the other girls over with take out so that Emma would not have to make an appearance and deal with the gossip that would surely follow.

Killian did not hide his intent gaze seeing her order from one of the other women and fold her hands in her lap as she waited. She did not meet his gaze, though her mother shot him a few looks of both anger and disgust. The women began nibbling on toast and sipping their drinks as soon as they were delivered. He was just working up his courage to go to her when Graham entered the restaurant with is trademark humble swagger. The man’s eyes darted about and he chose a chair that he turned around to their table rather than join either of them on a bench.

Killian hung back and waited on Emma to beckon to him somehow, but he could tell that her attention was focused on the two breakfast companions.

“I’ve not been sleeping well,” Graham said to them, running a hand over his own haggard expression. “I keep having these strange dreams.”

Emma remained quiet, her eyes trained on her plate and her lips tight around her fork. “What kind of dreams?” Mary Margaret asked, ignoring the looks that the threesome were receiving. “Nightmares?”

He told her briefly of the images and flashes that had littered his sleeping moments, the scenes of her bravely facing death that he spared her from and the defiant lift of her chin when he told her to run. His face flushed in embarrassment to have to tell her of this, unsure if it was memory or a hallucination that played in his mind with increasing frequency.

“Have you been drinking?” Emma asked suddenly when his shaking hand dropped his water and splashed it on the table. She used her hands to ward it off as it came closer to her.

“Emma, I’m not sure what’s happening?”

***AAA***

She could tell that he wanted to speak with her, his eyes pleading when she caught him glancing in her direction. It was not something she was ready to deal with that morning. Mary Margaret had promised her that she could protect them both if they were to go to Granny’s, swearing that she would not allow Killian any access to Emma that was not comfortable.

“He looked horrible,” Mary Margaret said as she fell in step beside Emma. “I doubt he will be standing by the end of the day. He’s probably going to collapse in a heap.”

“He didn’t look that ill to me,” Emma said, her chin lifting almost defiantly. “I doubt he will suffer any ill consequences.”

The teacher paused with a confused grunt. “Oh…I didn’t mean Killian,” she said. “I was talking about Graham.”

Emma turned her head quickly toward her mother, looking a bit embarrassed to have assumed. “I thought…”

Mary Margaret smiled and patted the woman’s arm companionably. “I understand. We all get a little wrapped up in our own thoughts. No, I meant Graham. He looks as though whatever these dreams are have really begun to haunt him.”

Emma looked to her mother thoughtfully. “He told me that you were in the dreams.”

Mary Margaret shrugged her shoulders. “We’ve known each other for…well, I’m not really sure. I’m sure there must be some explanation for his dreams. I promise that I have never been on the run in the woods or prepared to die by a knife.”

“I suppose one would remember such a thing,” Emma said, shaking off the sadness she felt that her mother did not remember such an important time in her life. Her mother used to speak of the huntsman with fondness, not wanting to forget that it was his humanity that saved her.

“He’s very kind, isn’t he?” Mary Margaret said, picking up their pace a little and giving Emma a look. Emma recognized it immediately. It was the look her mother gave when trying to set up a meeting between her and possible suitor. “I could see the two of you…”

Emma pressed her finger tips to her temples as though it was painful to imagine. “You’re not suggesting that, are you?”

“Too soon?”

“That’s not a good match,” Emma declared.

***AAA***

Emma pressed the glowing button the copier and listened to the machine roar to life as it spit out duplicates of the pages that were needed. Graham had been in court most of the day, offering testimony based on his own reports about the crimes committed in the sleepy little town and by the people who called it home. He had told Emma that he hated court week, as it meant that he got very little else done.

So when he came back to the station at a little past noon, Emma was slightly surprised and even more so when he dropped a bagged lunch on her desk. “I figured having to face Killian this morning was once too much for you today,” he said shrugging out of his jacked and throwing it on a stack of files. He watched it almost slide with a glare in his eyes, as if he were daring it to stay in place.

“I didn’t realize you noticed,” she muttered, biting into the ham and cheese sandwich with a quick thank you. “You were sort of distracted today.”

“I’m tired,” he said, “not blind.” He waited on her to finish chewing before he asked if there was something she needed from him. Did Killian need to be arrested for anything? Questioned? Did he have a car to be booted?

“Believe it or not,” she said between bites. “I’m not that vengeful. And things aren’t so dire.”

Graham nodded and laughed. “Then you are different than every woman and man in Storybrooke. Everyone here has at least one person who they are dying to stick it to and how. If I could arrest people for intentions and plots, I’d have to build more holding cells.”

Emma laughed at the idea of everyone sharing a cell because they were internally plotting to kill an ex-lover or estranged friend. Ruby would probably top the list, she decided. “You could help me with something though,” Emma said, running her fry through a mixture of ketchup and mustard. “I need to find someone, a woman, but I don’t have much information on her.”

Graham nodded, shifting his persona from caring boss and almost friend to law enforcement official. “What’s her name?” he asked, rooting through some of the papers on his desk for a blank one.

Emma hesitated, knowing that most people in this realm went by an entirely different name. She was not even sure what Belle looked like, how old she was, or if she had another name. “I believe she used to go by the name Belle.”

Graham tapped the pen on the scrap of paper and stared upward. “So it could be Bella, Isabelle, Isabella…” He frowned as he wrote each name down. “Is there a last name?”

“French, I believe,” Emma said hesitantly.

Using his index finger, he scratched at the tip of his nose. “I have not heard that name in this town before,” he said slowly. “I know pretty much everyone. Can I ask why you aren’t sure on the name?”

Emma bit at her lip, looking down at the food and hoping a reason would come to her. “I’m not sure,” she said. “She could be hiding from someone.”

***AAA***

Liam nursed the beer that Ruby had placed in front of him, sipping rather than gulping and feeling a bit uncomfortable in his own skin. Killian had rarely raised his voice to his own brother, let alone truly declared him a complete git. And of course, the older brother had to admit that Killian was right in many ways.

Yes, Emma was high born and without complete equal when it came to royalty. She was fair and just, beautiful and poised, brave, and selfless, just as a good princess should be, but for whatever reason she loved Killian. He could see it, the looks she gave him, the way she brushed up against him and the way her own expression warmed in his presence. It was not completely one sided as Liam had first thought.

“I thought you’d be upstairs,” the woman’s voice rang out, a note of sadness and of annoyance in it.

“I thought I might take my dinner down here,” he said, waving a hand in front of him for her to join him.

Emma hesitated, her hands clutching a single sheet of paper so tightly that he thought she might rip it in two. “I was going to leave this with Ruby to bring to you both.”

Liam nodded his head. “Killian is upstairs, probably trying to ignore the fact that I’m down here and he’s…well... I’m going to be a bit bold and say that I assume you have tried to find this Belle? Is that true? Did you have any success?”

She shrugged, blinking back. “It would help if I knew of her appearance, her name here, anything, any clue,” she declared. “It’s like searching for a needle in a haystack or how so ever we’re supposed to use that phrase.”

Liam kicked the stool next to him. “You make me ill at ease with the hovering.”

She slid onto the stool and placed her feet on the bar rest. “Do you know anything else that might be helpful?”

He shook his head, laughing a bit uncomfortably. “You do realize that from the moment I met you, you have fought against every piece of advice and every ounce of help that I might offer you. When I asked my brother to watch over you, you bewitched him while claiming that you needed no such protection. When I found someone else to watch you, you still managed to fight back. Your parents warned me that you were independent and not likely to react well to my guidance or suggestions.”

She drummed her fingers on the counter top and waited for him. “I’m not a frail or delicate flower.”

“No you aren’t. You are a woman who knows her own mind and set out to protect her kingdom by outrunning the curse. Still, you ended up here and will undoubtedly break it.” He sipped at his drink again, eyeing her carefully. “You and my brother misjudge my intentions and my words. I am not all that interested in his station back in Mist Haven, as I am sure that he can protect that on his own. If you have decided to care for my brother, nothing I nor your parents could say would sway you. I’m not naïve or ignorant to your intractability. And I do not doubt your ability to move on should my brother not find himself able or willing to care for you with the honor and respect that a woman deserves.”

She almost wished for his drink as she sat there, her head swimming. “Then why do you find it so horrible that I might care for your brother as more than my protector or servant? Why do you insist that he should stay away from me? Are you so afraid that my parents are actually tyrants who would hurt him for daring to be familiar with a princess?”

Raking a hand through the messy curls on his head, he looked toward the kitchen and the small window that revealed the staff inside. “Emma, I know what it’s like to be in love with someone. I’m not a fool who has never known love or never seen it. I also know how it can rip you to shreds if you are not careful. It is not your heart that worries me, milady. It is my brother’s. You see, you are a strong woman and no matter what happens you will survive it. I cannot say that of my brother. I saw how losing our parents destroyed the boy that he was and if something were to happen to you…Milady, he is not strong enough to survive that. So I am merely trying to protect him.”

Her lips were set in a firm line, eyes narrow on his vulnerable features. “I would never hurt him,” she said. “I would never intend to cause him pain. And unlike you, I believe he is stronger and braver than you could imagine. I believe in him.”

Liam lifted his drink as though he was about to toast her. “You have given me much to think about,” he said. “And very little time in which to think about it. So let us discuss what we can about this Belle and about how to wake your father. Both of these take a priority over my sentiments about your relationship with my brother.”

***AAA***

Killian ate his room, unable to face anyone at the moment and unwilling to make small talk over another meal with his brother. The thought and irony that just days before he’d been praying that his brother would wake up was not lost on the young lieutenant. He’d not been lying when he told his brother that he was still an important fixture in his life, but there was resentment now and anger over his brother’s stubborn behavior. Despite the finality in his statements to Liam, he knew that the conversation was not over. They’d have it many times.

So when there was a sharp knock at the door, he did not hasten to it. He let the sound crack through the silent room again before he pushed himself up off the bed and toward the doorknob. He offered no assurance that he was shortly to arrive, nor did he ask who it was when he knew that Liam would stand on the other side.

He was wrong.

“I spoke to Liam,” she said, sounding more unsure in front of him than he could remember. “He’s not a bad man to want to protect you.”

“I don’t need protecting from you,” Killian answered, his hands itching to reach out to her. “That’s the last thing I need.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“Aye,” Killian said, smiling slyly at her. “He is.”

She shifted her weight from one foot to another, looking into the dim room beyond Killian’s shoulder. “As long as we agree on that…”

“I am as well,” he said, the rush of blood inside him turning his cheeks a soft shade of pink. “I should have never let him insert doubt into what I feel for you.” One hand braced the door knob and the other the frame of the door.

“We aren’t ready to discuss that yet,” she said, looking down at her feet. “I am not ready…”

He drew in his breath, opening the door a bit wider. “Why are you here?” he asked sincerely. “Other than to call my brother an idiot?”

“Your brother said he met this Belle before. He thinks that he could recognize her.” Emma rocked back on her heels. “I think that the three of us should work together to find her.” She folded her arms across her chest. “All ill feelings aside, we are a team?”

_**So we've made it to chapter 30. Next chapter will be a little fluffier to celebrate.** _


	31. Chapter 31

**_A/N: I have been having Braxton Hicks contractions today and am ready to pull my hair out, but I did manage to get some work done and wrote one of the longest chapters. As I promised, here is some fluff. I just sort of needed some warm fuzzy feelings. Back to the action in the next chapter, but for now…_ **

Emma fished the key for the station out of her pocket as she tried to lock up for the evening, knowing that despite his protests to the contrary, Graham was not returning that night unless there was an emergency.

“You don’t quite trust me, do you?” Graham asked when she had made it outside only to see him leaning on the patrol car with his ankles crossed and his arms braced behind him.

She jumped at the sound of his voice, almost spilling the bag she had over her shoulder. She’d spent her lunch hour copying some of the city records and even stayed an hour after work to copy some more. It had become common practice lately, as she dropped them off to Killian and Liam through Ruby. Sometimes she stayed with them to go through the more intricate ones, but mostly she left them to their own devices.

“I would trust you more if you did not try to scare me,” she said, readjusting the strap on her bag. Graham had not protested her copying the records. He said very little about it.

“I do apologize,” he answered. “Should I do something to make it up to you?”

“I don’t think it is that serious of an offense,” Emma said, taking in a deep breath to steady herself. “I thought you were on some search.”

He shrugged as though that was a silly question. “I did not find what I was looking for, but maybe tomorrow.” He grimaced. “I have a feeling that you could help me.”

It was her turn to shrug back at him. “That’s why you gave me a job, isn’t it? To help you?”

“Yes, that’s the reason,” he concurred. “I wanted to talk to you. Do you have time to perhaps grab a drink? Granny’s pretty crowded, but I know another place.”

Emma let her gaze wander over toward Granny’s seeing the mining crowd already arriving for their weekly debriefing as they called it. Granny called it a drunken free for all. “I’m afraid I have plans already.” She was vague, she knew that. It wasn’t fair, but it was easier that way.

“With Mr. Jones?” Graham seemed overly formal as he said Killian’s name.

“With Mary Margaret,” Emma explained, unsure why it should bother her that he now knew she was spending the evening with a friend rather than Killian.

“You two seem very similar,” Graham noted, pushing himself up from the car and making his way to the door. “Like sisters or something. I keep having that dream or memory of her. It’s a younger version of her though. It’s her, but it is so much like you. The same face. Just different.” He was clenching his fist, a sure sign that he was thinking too hard again.

***AAA***

Mary Margaret was an expert on all types of microwave popcorn, Emma learned the third night after she moved into the loft. The teacher had one entire shelf of her kitchen dedicated to the different flavors and brands, each one hand selected. She’d even written out a chart about the best cooking times and results, as she did not trust the vague instructions on the box. When Emma had said she was not sure what it was, Mary Margaret had launched into a spiel about the proper flavor, temperature and drink pairings.

“I have a new one you might like,” she called out to Emma after a long day at work for both of them. “I picked it up on my way home.”

“What’s the occasion?” Emma asked, hoping her voice wasn’t too muffled by the sweatshirt that her mother had loaned her for the rare occasions when all was quiet and there were no guests.

“I have four movies I have to watch this weekend for my class,” she explained. “I gave my students an assignment about re-writing the ends of their favorite fairy tales.” The students in Mary Margaret’s class were always getting such assignments, but the woman loved a good story and proceeded to include literature in any lesson area she could find.

There was a secret joy in watching her mother enjoy a fairy tale, which Emma had come to realize were the familiar if exaggerated stories of her own world. Princesses fought for happy endings and dashing princes battled magic and dragons. There was something romantic about it, sweet and sentimental that she had such a connection despite no memories of her similar life.

Emma’s eyes felt raw after going through census records and her regular work. She had to remind herself to blink as the straight lines of information began to waver and the script ran together into indistinguishable shapes. Mary Margaret passed her a matching throw blanket and the two women curled under the soft knits with their stocking covered feet curled under them and a bowl of garlic and parmesan flavored popcorn between them.

“Ruby was busy?” Emma asked as Mary Margaret sorted through the colorful cases for the movie she wanted to watch first. Ruby had been over one night already, bringing left overs and gossip from her latest shift at the restaurant.

“She said she’d rather cuddle with the doctor than play spinster buddy comedy with us,” the teacher laughed. “I can’t say that I blame her.”

Emma nodded, picking individual kernels of the popcorn out of her fist. “I can understand that, but I will miss her brownies.”

Mary Margaret ran her finger along the description on the back of the movie, frowning when she came to a certain part. “What about you? Didn’t you have a date tonight?”

Pulling the blanket up over one shoulder for warmth and protection, Emma smiled. “Nice try,” she said. “Killian is busy.”

“There are other men in this town besides him,” the brunette suggested innocently. “Graham for example.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to try to start anything with my boss,” she said, wrinkling her face as though she had tasted something sour. “What about you? Why aren’t you on a date?” She cringed as she said the words, realizing that she did not want to have to deal with her mother dating when her father was in a coma. The very idea of her mother finding someone new was disturbing and she regretted the suggestion as soon as it came out of her mouth.

“I don’t know of anyone in this town that beats a good bowl of popcorn, a hot chocolate, or a good book,” the woman said. “I think my expectations might be too high. I’m looking for Prince Charming.”

***AAA***

Liam crossed another name off his list and continued searching through the notes that Emma had made while searching the city records. His memories of the woman named Belle were sketchy at best and were laced with a vague recollection that she was young and pretty but little more than that. Even Killian, who was usually more optimistic, was decidedly less so with this particular track.

“Anything on your end?” Liam asked, dropping back against the chair with a grunt of discomfort. He had been sitting there for two hours since dinner and five hours before that. While Killian had the escape of the hospital, Liam was not as lucky.

“There are no birth records or adoption filings in the Storybrooke town records at all,” Killian confirmed, musing over the notes that Emma had made that included small doodles in the margin of a dog, a baby bottle, and even a swan. “If that child Regina has in her possession is the future prince, I cannot prove it or disprove any more than Emma.”

Killian closed the pharmacy procured spiral notebook that Emma had picked up one day the week before and stuffed it under some of the clothing in the top drawer. Ruby was usually the only one to enter the room, dropping off towels and toiletries and asking if anything needed fixing or changing, but still he hated to leave items out and about for anyone to read. Emma had insisted he keep their growing chart of Mist Haven identities with matching Storybrooke names, as she was sure she could not afford to have her mother find it.

“She’ll be disappointed,” Liam noted, clasping his hands together to stretch over his head. “I know she was hoping for a clue in the adoption records.”

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “Perhaps I should tell her.” He let his hand linger over the jacket on the arm of his chair, almost waiting for his brother to protest. However, Liam kept his eyes cast toward the ceiling and stretched again. “I could pick you up something on the way back?”

“I’m probably going to turn in a bit early tonight,” the older brother responded. “I’ve had a rough day.”

Killian nodded, still hesitating as he moved toward the door. “You’ll be alright here alone?”

There was a chuckle from Liam as he pushed back from the round table and began to gather the notes into one pile. “You told me already that you do not wish for me to protest or stop you from pursuing the princess. I’m trying to be a good brother here and respect your wishes.”

“But you still have doubts, brother?” The question seemed to hang in the air, as Liam had already voiced his protests quite loudly.

“I will always have doubts,” Liam agreed. “They seem to fall on deaf ears though. But you are a grown man and she seems quite taken with you. So enjoy your time and appreciate it. Time with a beautiful woman can be all too fleeting in any realm.”

***AAA***

Ruby stopped him on his way out, her uniform having been replaced with a casual outfit as she sat with Victor in one of the booths and pretended that she was just another of the customers. She eyed him suspiciously, her scrutiny causing his cheeks to redden as she finally smiled.

“You’re going to Mary Margaret’s?” she asked, ignoring the way that Victor seemed to want to call her attention back to him. “Or…?”

Killian let out a nervous laugh and squinted as his hand went to scratch at the back of his neck. “That obvious.”

Holding a finger up to Victor to tell him to wait a moment, Ruby slid out of the booth and disappeared behind the counter. “Are you trying to convince her that you’re not a complete and utter idiot?” she asked rhetorically. “You can’t go over there empty handed. You have to bring her something. Flowers? Candy? Cookies?” She shook her head in a mock disbelief. “How you got her to notice you in the first place is beyond me. You’re cute, but you’re a little dumb on the dating stuff.” She assembled a white paper box and began to toss a few of the specialty cookies that Granny had begun stocking to compete with the new coffee shop. “You’ll need these.”

He barely caught the box as she shoved it toward him muttering about girls’ night and movies. “And these,” she said, preparing three hot chocolates and giggling when he raised a confused eyebrow.

“Three?”

“Mary Margaret,” the woman sang out in exasperation. “If you think that Mary Margaret Blanchard will let you get in 10 feet of Emma without you showing some serious remorse for whatever the hell you did, you’re mistaken. The best way is to distract Mary Margaret by being a gentleman and sharing a treat with her.” She pursed her lips together. “You still need flowers.”

Running back around the counter, Ruby grabbed the tissue wrapped bouquet from in front of Victor. “These didn’t come from some sick patient at the hospital, did they?” she asked him, shuddering at the idea. “They don’t have like germs or something.”

He only shook his head and muttered something about stealing them from the cemetery, which earned him a playful slap upside the head by Ruby. “There,” the waitress declared, placing the stems under his arm. “I think you’re ready.”

***AAA***

The stairs to Mary Margaret’s loft apartment were steep, more so with a box of cookies, a drink carrier of three hot chocolates, and a bouquet of flowers. Killian realized he might have to actually kick the door rather than knock with his fist. However, Ruby had insisted that each of the items was necessary to gain access to the lady’s shared space.

Just as Ruby had predicted it was Mary Margaret who answered the door. Her face went from surprise to incredulous in less than a second and she eyed the assortment in his arms with suspicion. “Did she know you were coming over?” she asked, as if the conversation had never been had before. “We were having a movie night.”

Killian tried to grin gratefully, determined not to look past the woman in front of him in search of Emma somewhere in the depths of the apartment. “I brought provisions,” he said, unsure how to proceed with the woman who seemed to not want to welcome his presence.

“Chocolate,” Mary Margaret said, resolve breaking in her voice while her expression remained stoic. She looked back over her shoulder without giving an inch. “Do you want me to let him in?”

Emma appeared from the darkened corner, her casual appearance seemingly too much for the lieutenant whose dreams of her always included her in the luxurious finery of a royal gala. She wore a soft sweatshirt with the faded letters of a college across her chest. Her legs were covered in a similar material that hung loose and was rolled about her waist and ankles to make it fit. Even her feet were covered in thick socks that had tiny treads on them so she might not slip and fall. The long blonde hair that he could still feel the silkiness of on his fingertips was braided and thrown over one shoulder.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” she said, ignoring her mother’s question. “I thought you were going to work on that project with your brother.”

He nodded, realizing a beat too late that she had paused to let him speak. “We hit a dead end and I thought I might call upon you.” He inexplicably bit his bottom lip as she stepped closer. “Ruby suggested the provisions.”

Mary Margaret still had not moved and his hands began to ache from holding up the box and cup holder. Emma stepped around her mother to retrieve the box. “Ruby usually has good taste on such things,” she commented, lifting the lid and showing Mary Margaret the contents. “Your favorites?”

The dark haired woman’s eyes narrowed at Killian over the lid of the box. “Which one of us are you trying to impress here?”

A nervous laugh tittered in the air. “I suppose both of you should be wooed.” He winked toward Emma, lifting the drinks higher. “Hot chocolate for you both and one for me.” That was the breaking point for the two women who lunged for the drinks, almost dropping the box in the process.

Mary Margaret was already sipping and half way back to her seat when Emma shot the question over her shoulder. “We can’t send him away when he brought such nice things?” she asked.

Her mother did not verbally respond, still sipping away on the drink and waving her hand in response. It was the opportunity Emma needed to step closer to Killian, her face close to his ear. “No luck?”

“I’m sorry to say there are no records that help with the information on the baby,” he said sorrowfully. “I know how much you want to rescue your brother.”

She looked up through her lashes, giving him a sad smile. “We’ll find a way,” she promised.

He shifted a bit, pulling the tightly wrapped bouquet out to her. “They aren’t as beautiful as back home, but I hope that you might like them anyway.”

Grasping around the stems, she let her hand rest against his for a second until he pulled away. “They are very pretty,” she said. She tilted them toward her nose to breathe in the scent. “You had time to purchase flowers with all the research and work you’ve been doing?”

He looked guilty as she delicately fingered one of the petals. “I’m afraid I was about to arrive empty handed until Ruby loaded me with these items.”

Emma laughed. “I assumed as much,” she said. “Why are you here though? You could have told me over our breakfast tomorrow that you had reached a stumbling block?” She cocked her head to the side and looked at him curiously. “Did you really come here for that?”

“I think we both know I came to see you,” he said just as quietly as she had asked her question.

She looked pleased, hopeful that he was being honest with her. “Would you like to come in then?”

He glanced past her to where Mary Margaret had returned to her seat with popcorn bowl in her lap and an eerie glow from the television screen across her skin. “I thought perhaps we might take a walk?” He again shifted his weight in an unsure manner. “The temperature is not too cold, nor is there much of a chance of bad weather.”

Emma looked down at the mix of flowers as she considered it. “I should change,” she said finally, a smile cracking across her face. “You can wait with Mary Margaret while I get ready. Perhaps you can make some in roads?”

Scampering up the stairs, she left Killian there unsure by the door in her attempt to secure a vase and an appropriate outfit. She hurried as best she could, still not completely comfortable with the accessories and clothing of Storybrooke compared to what she was used to wearing. Pausing at the top of the stairs, she choked back a laugh as she heard Killian call her mother, “ma’am” and almost refer to her as “milady.”

“We’re just going for a short walk,” Emma said when Killian jumped up from his seat upon her return. She could feel the waves of relief rolling off of him. “You don’t mind my missing this movie, do you?”

Mary Margaret looked vaguely amused as Killian almost appeared to want to beg her for a moment alone with Emma. “I think I’ll survive,” she answered. “If you will?”

Emma nodded and went to put on her jacket, followed by Killian who offered to help her. A soft sound of approval came from Mary Margaret at the gesture, echoed again as he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and led her toward the door. She was dressed differently that the sweats that had been so comfortable, wearing a wool skirt that struck just above her knee in red, blue and white plaid, as well as a red sweater with a scooping neck.

“She makes you nervous?” Emma managed to ask as they descended the stairs.

Killian chuckled merrily. “Emma, she’s your mother,” he reminded her. “Even if she does not recall the role she plays in your life, she’s quite important to you. Her approval is vital to my winning your heart, is it not?”

“You assume it can still be won,” she said a bit more playfully. “We never talk about it, but you do recall that I was betrothed before the curse. Who knows where my fiancé is currently?”

His head tilted backward as he looked upon her with a warning grin. “Love, you have not spoken of him because you do not even know him. I would hasten to say that you are not that interested in getting to know him either.” As they moved away from the building where her mother was probably spying on them from the window, Emma felt their pace slow a bit and their shoulders bump as he pulled her a little tighter to his side. “And I hope that perhaps I might occupy that place in your heart now.”

“For a man who can seem so ill at ease, you do come off as sure of yourself sometimes,” she mused. “So since we have no leads on our curse situation, I have an idea. I want you to tell me something that nobody else knows about you. I will do the same.”

His bemused smile was not hidden even as he glanced at the ground. “You know all there is to know about me, Emma,” he said. “I have told you all my secrets.”

She pursed her lips ruefully, stopping her walk and yanking him back toward her. “Every one of your secrets has been revealed to me?” she asked, pausing as he nodded affirmatively. “I find that hard to believe, Killian. There must be something? A childhood nickname? A fear of some kind? A past love who broke your heart? Something?”

His free hand teasingly rose to trace his index finger down her nose. “I suppose there is the story of the mermaids. I don’t believe I shared that with you.” He tapped the tip of her nose with his finger twice.

“Mermaids?” she asked. “An old sea legend?”

“When I was a wee lad my brother and I were assigned to separate the fish one day into different barrels. It was an awful and odorous task on such a hot day. Being a lad no older that seven years, I would have much rather played than worked.”

She grinned and scooted closer to him as he spoke. “I am trying to picture it.”

“I snuck away to play with a few of the children who lived above the bake shop, but it was not long until my brother found me and was furious that I left him to the task alone. He told me that I was to be punished, as what we were doing was God’s work and that I had shirked my responsibilities to the almighty.” Killian’s eyes danced though his expression was dour with the memory.

“And you believed him?” Emma asked. “I don’t wish to disparage the men who work at the docks, but it is hardly God’s work.” She made a small face that looked every bit of the princess was, pink rising in her cheeks as she realized how pampered she sounded.

“Oh but my brother convinced me that it was,” Killian answered earnestly. “He was so angry at me and explained that they were not ordinary fish but angels. They were the angels of the mermaids who had perished. Being a young lad of course I believed him. For the fins were just as gossamer as angel wings to me.” He led her over to a bench where he set them down under the yellow glow of a street lamp. “I cried with the knowledge that I had shown such disrespect to the angels.”

Emma bit back her smile. “That’s horrible, Killian. You must have been devastated.”

“Aye, I was,” he said with all sincerity. “I was so haunted by the experience I could not eat the fish my mother prepared for me. That’s why I was such a scrawny child for a time.” He could barely hold back his laughter as Emma’s poured out. He even accepted her playful slap to his shoulder.

“You’re horrible,” she said, still smiling. “I think you say such things just to get a rise out of me.”

“I love to watch you be amused at me, as well as angry,” he said. “I took my chances that such a story would do one or the other or both.”

She leaned her face against his hand as his knuckles ran along her cheek. “So that was just for my benefit? Or yours?” She wanted to be angry, annoyed that he was pulling her away from her quiet night at home and inviting her to sit on a bench when the weather is not cold but still cool enough to leave her with tiny shivers.

“I should hope both,” he said, smiling at her until she sighed half in frustration and half in resignation. “But since I teased and taunted you with that story, do you wish to ask me something else? It seems only fair.”

She pushed her lips to one side and looked upwards as if a good question might be hidden in the sparse clouds above. “You never speak of any family but Liam,” she said finally. “I’ve told you so many stories of my parents, my uncles, even my step-grandmother. What of your family?”

His lips parted slightly and then clamped back together as if he thought better of the answer. “I’m afraid I don’t have many stories of my parents,” he said. “I have told you how Liam and I were there for each other.”

“Your father sounded like an awful man,” Emma said, one of her hands resting on his leg. “What about your mother? What was she like?”

Killian’s smile seemed brighter as he pictured her. “She was beautiful,” he said. She had raven hair and she loved to laugh and sing. When my father was away she would sing as she did her work. She was a tiny woman, delicate features but as strong as they come. She could do the work of six men, but still she seemed at times as mild as a doe grazing in the field.”

“I wish I could have met her,” Emma said, thinking how he must have inherited some of her traits. She pictured herself being nervous around the woman who had been his mother, hoping against hope that she would approve and like her as a good match for her son.

“As do I,” Killian answered. “So you will now tell me of some secret of your past. May I request one? Or are you to regale me with some tale of a royal function where you dipped your fingers into your soup?”

She laughed, a bright and light sound on the breeze. “What do you wish to know?”

He considered telling her that he wished to know everything, but hesitated as that seemed too big of a request. “Whatever you wish to share, love.” With the way she buried herself into his side, her hands snaking inside his jacket for warmth, he could not help but appreciate the moment with her. A quick kiss was placed at her temple and then at her cheek.

“Maybe I should tell you of my first love,” she said, nodding her head in agreement with herself.

“Your first?” he teased. “Have there been many?”

She did not dignify that with a response, instead holding her tongue from answering. “I was 13 and my parents were celebrating their anniversary with a large function. I had always been sent to bed before the dancing, as is proper for my family. So I was rather excited to see what all the fuss was about. I napped all afternoon so that I might stay up to watch the couples dancing. I had seen my mother and her friends dressing in beautiful gowns with every color of the rainbow. My father and men matched with their own attire. Even without the music it was a beautiful sight.” She closed her eyes, thinking of how small she had felt at her mother’s side as the couples were introduced to the royal family and music from the ballroom had trickled into the great hallway where they stood.

“Did anyone ask you to dance, love?” Killian asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

“Not at 13,” she said. “But I was content to watch. When we made our way to the ballroom it was so grand and beautiful that I had to remind myself to breathe. My parents led off the dancing and my mother seemed to be floating. I was so in awe of them.”

He could picture her, though he’d never known her at that age. All legs and arms like a colt, a lopsided grin and golden curls that bounced and tumbled as she walked and moved to get a better view of her parents. She’d had every luxury imaginable, but he knew that she must have also felt lonely as their only child. She never complained of it, but he knew she had longed for a companion who understood her.

“And your first love?” he prodded.

“There was a young prince at the ball,” she said, a wistful smile on her face. “He was a few years older than I was and so handsome that even some of the younger maids had peeked out from the curtains in separating the preparation area to gawk at him. His father was doing business with my father and he was introduced to us. I remember he kissed my mother’s hand and then mine.”

“And you quite fancied him?” he asked, enjoying the shy way she spoke of the kiss to her hand though she’d had many more intimate experiences since.

“Yes,” she said with a laugh. “I don’t even remember his name, but I remember the butterflies I felt in my stomach and how I would have died a thousand deaths had he asked me to dance with him. Thankfully he did not, as I’m sure the whole room would have heard and seen my heart beating in my chest.”

Killian warmed at the memory she had shared, remembering his own first feelings of love for a girl who had worked alongside her father in a cannery. He’d never even worked up the courage to talk to her, but he carried the memory of her fondly. “Is that all it takes to give you these butterflies?” he asked, the teasing lilt to his voice like music. He pulled at one of her hands until he brought it up to his lips and gently brushed his mouth against it. “I would have done so sooner, had I known.”

She flushed with the sweetness of the moment. “I should think that you would have known to do so,” she said slyly. “After all, you were always telling me that you wanted to be proper around the young princess.”

“Aye, but it is hard to remember myself with a young princess as beautiful and beguiling as you are, Emma.” He kept his hand wrapped around hers, hovering still near his mouth. Then as the corners of his lips turned upward, he gave a slight nod to the circle of light on the street from the overhead lamp. “May I have this dance, Princess Emma?”

She did not pull her hand away, but made no move either. “You are forgetting there is no music, Lieutenant Jones,” she said. “How can we dance with no music?”

He stood in one swift motion, still holding her hand in his own. “My brother has been to his fair share of royal functions, including dancing with a duchess or countess, but I have yet to have the honor. My dancing has been limited to learning from my mother as a child in a very cramped kitchen. So I hope you don’t hold that against me, love.”

She grinned as she gathered herself to stand and follow him. “I have little experience myself,” she admitted. “My parents stopped throwing such events as I got older and things became so troublesome in the kingdom. When they did, I was encouraged to dance with potential suitors, but I rebelled.” She looked quite smug as she stood there with only the feeling of his thumb running along the back of her hand.

“You do have a bit of scoundrel in you, don’t you love?” he mocked, bowing to her grandly. “But now you are stalling. May I have this dance?”

She placed her left foot behind her, toes pointed toward the pavement. Bending at her knees, she dipped her head and provided her best curtsey in his direction. “I would be enchanted, Lieutenant Jones.”

He swept her into his arms, looping one around her waist as she rested her hand on his shoulder, their other hands clasped. The movement was soft and hesitant at first, no music guiding them as they mimicked the movements that she had admittedly only experienced with her father and him with his mother. Slowly they grew accustomed and moved more confidently, boldly turning and twisting through the choreographed steps that had been a part of their culture for generations.

“I suppose this is quite silly,” he said as her hair brushes against him. “We probably look a fright what with there being no music.”

She lifted her hand from his shoulder and placed a single finger on his lips.

“I can hear the music,” she said, smiling at him. “Listen.”

His eyes never left hers and she seemed to feel weightless as they twirled under the yellowish light. If she had to admit it, there were butterflies fluttering inside her. And when they stopped the actual dance so that he could draw her closer and press his lips to hers, she was sure they were still dancing, spinning to an unheard song as the world stopped for just a moment.

**_A/N: My update may be delayed tomorrow because of doctors’ appointments and dinner with friends. I will try to get the next chapter out soon though._ **


	32. Chapter 32

**_A/N: After a long chapter yesterday, this one is shorter. Some more CS feels and then a little reveal._ ** **_J_ **

****

**_Enjoy!_ **

 

Killian did not think much about the curse, her parents, or the fact that they were in a realm so foreign to what he was used to living in that he ached for something familiar. Emma was asleep in his arms, her body warm and malleable and pressed solidly against him as he memorized the pattern of her breathing the way her hair reminded him of lavender after the rain. Each breath tickled across his skin and each tiny sigh she emitted warmed his heart.

 

He knew the feeling was only temporary, as she had been quite adamant that she was returning to her mother’s that night. “It’s better this way,” she had told him, shrugging when he mentioned that she could always come back to their room. “I want to be able to spend time with my mother, even if she doesn’t remember who I am.”

 

The moment that she began to stir, he felt that sinking feeling that their time together always seemed too short. There was always some emergency, some clue, something that had to be dealt with right away. She was apologetic, but he knew that priorities meant she had to put aside what she wanted in favor of the more practical business of ending a curse. It did not mean he had to like it.

 

“I should go,” Emma muttered into the space between his neck and his shoulder. “I don’t want my mother to worry.”

 

“I think we may have already exceeded the time of a quick walk,” he said, not yet loosening his arms around her. “You will have to come up with quite a fancy deception to keep her from realizing anything.”

 

Tilting her head back and letting her long hair fall over his arms, she giggled. “Is it wrong that I am thankful she does not remember being my mother at the moment,” she said. “I won’t owe her as much of an explanation.”

 

“And I won’t live in fear of my life yet,” he chuckled. “I doubt your parents would be so kind and understanding of my being in bed with you back in your kingdom.” He tried to picture it, the room she must have had since childhood. Her warm smile as she rode to greet him on horseback as he returned from some voyage. For a second it all seemed attainable until that familiar doubt reared its head. He wanted to squash it, just relish the feel of her in his arms and forget that he’d someday have to face her parents who may or may not be as understanding.

 

She wiggled against him, rolling to her back as she kept one hand on his chest and the other blindly reached for some of the clothing. “You still there?” she asked, a tinge of concern coming to the surface. “You seem far away.”

 

“I am simply wishing you would stay,” he said, lifting her hand from him and depositing a kiss on her palm. “But you must return. I know.”

 

“Will you walk me back?” she asked. “I know that Granny locks the doors, but Ruby is probably more understanding.” She wrinkled her nose as she pulled on the arm of her sweater, the fabric caught on the nearby chair. The red sweater landed with a plop on the bed and sent her laughing again at the absurdity of the situation.

 

“Of course, love,” he said with a wink. “Of course.”

 

He was not hurried in his steps as he escorted her, but neither was she. She even managed to stop them once or twice to look in the windows of some of the darkened stores and remark on the items on display. Then there were the three times he stopped to kiss her, telling her after she protested the first time that he couldn’t help but want to do it. She did not protest after that.

 

At the front door to the building, she dug into her pocket for her key and smiled as he twisted his hand in her hair and pulled her to him again. “You’re very affectionate tonight,” she said, smirking at his frustrated groan when she pulled back after another kiss.

 

“I miss you being so close at hand,” he admitted, his fingers still in her hair and his thumb grazing the apple of her cheek. “I know we said we would not speak of a future that we cannot predict, but I want to promise you something, Emma.”

 

She felt the coldness of the key on her hand and the flip of her stomach as she noticed the mirth in his eyes darkened momentarily. “You don’t have to,” she said quickly. “I’m not asking you to say anything…”

 

“Isn’t it better this way?” he asked, a bit of levity in the question. “Wouldn’t you rather I say this without the pressure of your expectations or your family’s regulations. May I please say this?” The collar of his shirt was a bit crooked from the way she had pulled it when they kissed earlier, the top few buttons open and the darkness of his chest hair poking out. On the ship he always wore his crisp white uniform and dark blue coat, but in Storybrooke it was as if color had been introduced to his life. The shirt was a deep green with a thin lined pattern and the pants black and tight across his legs.

 

She nodded her agreement that he could continue to speak.

 

“Emma, I don’t know what will happen when the curse breaks,” he began. “I know it will break because I believe in you. I believe you will break it because you are strong enough to do so. I’m just so very grateful that I will get to witness it.” He sucked in his sigh as he realized he was deviating from the point he wanted to make. Lowering his hands from her face and hair to her shoulders, he held her there in front of him, anchoring himself. “You said I don’t tell you how I feel. You said I’m scared. Yes, love, I’m scared to death of you thinking that I don’t care for you. I’m scared you’ll find me weak and wanting because I cannot seem to put into words just what you mean to me.”

 

She offered him a half smile, looking downward before she managed to raise her eyes to meet his questioning gaze. “Killian, it is alright. I know. I do know.”

 

His own smile quivered. “You’ve always been quite perceptive, love,” he said, again with the bantering tone. “But indulge me? Let me tell you that I love you, Emma.”

 

It was her turn to draw that sharp intake of breath before he spoke again. She did know his feelings. They were written on his face, evident in every touch and caress, tasted in every kiss. But still the words were not that familiar to her.

 

“And when the curse is broken,” he said again, “I fully intend to make it my life’s mission to show you just how much I do love you. For if you will have me, I will spend the rest of my days loving you and only you.”

 

She watched his expression soften, his eyes seeming to search in her eyes for some agreement, some reflection, some correlation. Her throat felt dry, as she parted her lips and hoped that he did not take her hesitant silence as anything other than surprise to hear him say the words to her. However, the way his eyes and mouth turned slightly downward indicated the worry that she did not want to cause. Her tongue cut out to wet her lips, hoping that would ease the words out. It did not.

 

So instead of perpetuate the silence, she lunged forward to push her lips against his. She had meant it to be soft, just a quick peck to buy her a moment before she had to respond. However, as it always seemed to work with him, it took on a life of his own. Nipping at his bottom lip, she wonders if there is possibly any way that she can live her life just kissing him. There seemed to be nothing better or more delightful than the taste of him on her tongue and feel of him on her lips.

 

The way he looked at her after the kiss made those butterflies return, a wondrous look that she feared she might not live up to in the end. She felt the rush of heat to her cheeks and actually put her hands up to them in some effort to control the flush. “Killian, I…I love you too.” She felt relief at saying it, like a bit of her escaped the prison of her own mind. He took the key from her, placing it in the lock as though she might not be steady enough to do that yet. “I’m not inviting you up.” She laughed when he grinned knowingly at her.

 

“I wouldn’t expect you to, love,” he said, holding the door for her. “However, I am going to walk you up to your door. Ad perhaps have another kiss goodnight.” The blue of his eyes seemed to swirl as he teased her.

 

Just as when he had led her from the loft for their walk, she tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and rested her chin on his shoulder. “I know you get nervous at the thought of my parents remembering, but you must know that my happiness is the most paramount to them. And you, Killian, make me very happy.”

 

His eyebrows wiggled up and down as he regarded her on the third step. “I hope it is as simple as that, Emma,” he said. “But whatever your parents’ reaction, I will not be deterred unless you send me away.”

 

She might have answered back or even kissed him again, but the sound on the landing above startled her. Rushing up the steps and awkwardly pulling Killian with her, Emma stooped down and shook the shoulder of a clearly distraught and drunk Graham in front of her. He was still wearing the same outfit, his badge clipped at his waist and this shirt splattered with some liquid that had stained the fabric. His eyes were rimmed in red and his breathing a bit shallow.

 

“Graham?” she asked, shaking his shoulder again as his head lolled aimlessly and even banged twice against the door jam. When he looked at her there was glassy film to his eyes and he did not seem to focus though he sort of slurred her name.

 

“He’s inebriated,” Killian said, kneeling next to her and looking disdainfully at the sheriff’s slacken state. “Quite so.”

 

Emma wanted to laugh at the obvious observation, but she pulled at the man’s arm. “Help me get him inside,” she said. “He needs coffee or to sleep it off.”

 

Killian hesitated as she tried to support a man much bigger than her slight frame. She was holding her own, but he flopped against her unceremoniously. He grabbed the man’s other arm and wrapped it over his shoulders as he held him up and balanced him as Emma then unlocked the door to the loft. He half guided and half carried the man, depositing him in an overstuffed chair as Emma leaned over her mother and inspected the scene. The teacher was on the small loveseat, her feet dangled off one end and her head sat propped on an embroidered cushion. The television remote was across her stomach, the glow of a blue screen casting light on her face.

 

“Is she well?” Killian whispered, watching the scene of daughter trying to waken her mother.

 

“Just sleeping,” Emma explained, pulling away the remote and standing to regard her mother carefully. “She falls asleep watching movies sometimes.” Killian looked confused. “Moving pictures on the box.” Emma pointed at the television. He nodded, realizing what she was referring to after all.

 

Graham was muttering something about a deer and wolf, something Killian was not fully sure he understood. Emma ignored them both to turn off the television and flip on a light next to her mother’s bed. Gently she led a groggy but somewhat awake Mary Margaret past the screens that she used to separate the space.

 

Killian could not help but watch the gentle way that Emma treated her sleeping mother. Her hands softly helping the woman curl up under the covers and settling her in with a glass of water and a thick novel with a bent bookmark on the night stand. When he quirked an eyebrow, she explained that Mary Margaret rarely slept through the night and liked to have the items there at her disposal.

 

“You’re good with her,” Killian said softly as Emma returned for the second time, this time with blankets and sheets for the small sofa. “I can see how you would be…” He broke off the sentence when he saw the absolute paleness that had accosted her cheeks.

 

“Do you think you could help me get him over here?” she asked. “That chair is horrible for sleeping.”

 

Killian nodded curtly and half dragged the sheriff over to the sofa meant for two. She untied his boots and curled his legs under him, placing a blanket and then stepping backward. “Emmm…aaaa….” The man’s voice was broken and dragged as though someone was pushing the syllables out of him. He repeated her name, still unable to make it sound like the same word.

 

“Graham,” she said, adjusting the blanket. “Get some sleep.” She looked down at him, his eyes now open and searching hers.

 

“That woman…” he said. “Belle. Regina…”

 

Emma’s right hand reached out to steady herself against Killian’s forearm. “What about Belle and Regina?”

 

Graham’s groan echoed off the exposed brick of the loft’s wall. “In the hospital. Below it.”

 

**_Thoughts?_ **


	33. Chapter 33

“He’s still asleep, love,” Killian said as Emma descended the stairs, her eyes a bit bleary from only an hour or so of sleep but otherwise normal. Graham was snoring lightly, hands folded over his chest and his head tilted back awkwardly so his mouth gaped open.

“You stayed,” Emma commented, making her way to the kitchen and digging out the bread that her mother had bought just the day before to make some toast. “I thought you’d…”

“We need to figure this out, but I knew you needed some sleep first,” Killian answered, groaning lowly as he tried to put himself to rights from the chair. “You were correct about that chair, love. It is a torturous device meant to cripple a man.”

Emma smiled from over the counter as she bent in search of something else. “I told you so.”

Killian managed to limp his way toward the counter. “I’m trying to understand, love,” he said with a little shrug. “The sheriff is telling us that this woman, Belle, is somehow under the hospital with Regina?”

“We know that Regina isn’t under the hospital, but I suppose she could have put Belle under the hospital. You work there. Is there anything under it?” She pulled out a tea kettle and began to fill it with water to put it on the stove burner.

Taking in a ragged breath, he explained to her what Victor had said and what he had seen. “I have tried to look at the panel of glowing lights in the device, but I cannot find how she was able to maneuver it downward. The public assumes there are only two floors in the building, but that only means the list of people who can help us is slim.” He frowned. “But clearly there is a cellar or basement. The question is how do we get to it.”

“Victor might be willing to help,” she said, digging into a jar of marmalade for the toast she was making. When he looked at it, she grinned like a child and explained that she used to love the snack back home.

He lowered his voice and leaned toward her. “Where is your mother?” he questioned.

“Already left for her morning coffee and gossip with Ruby,” Emma said. “She is sure to have something to say about you and Graham here last night.”

His smirk was evident despite the tension over the revelation that Graham had information on the elusive Belle. “At least she did not catch me in your bed,” he said, obviously enjoying her embarrassed expression. “She might not have taken that so well once she realizes her own identity.”

“If you keep teasing,” Emma warned, shaking the blunt edged butter knife at him. “I won’t defend you when my parents do remember.”

***AAA***

Victor looked a bit confused as he looked up from the nurse’s station to find Emma, Killian, Liam, and Graham all proceeding toward him, the blonde in the front of the three men who followed. He took a sip from the to-go cup that Ruby had sent him off with that morning and tried to not let his face show that the plastic lid cut his tongue as he lapped up the coffee that was several times better than the stale and lukewarm liquid available in the lounge.

“I feel like I should protect myself,” he said with a nervous laugh. Straightening his white doctor’s jacket, he shot a look at two of the nurses and then proceeded around the counter to grab Emma’s arm at the elbow. “Let’s talk in here.” He pulled her into an empty patient room, gesturing with his head for the men to follow them.

Emma waited until the last of the group – Graham – had closed the door and turned to face them before she looked back at the doctor. “Tell me about this elevator and the floor that nobody goes to around here.” The three of them sat on the empty hospital bed, looking like the see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil monkeys all in a row.

Victor cast his glance toward Killian and then back at Emma’s unwavering stare. “I haven’t been down there myself but once. There was a patient in need of a consultation and I was summoned.” His hands went to the stethoscope around his neck, pulling on it slightly. “I was not even privy to how the elevator operated. Someone brought me down there and then back up to the first floor.” He dropped his gaze down. “I don’t know much about it, but I knew that Killian was seeking more information and thought that if he studied it, he could figure it out. That way I wouldn’t have to tell him and I would remain free from the discussion.”

“Why did you feel the need to protect yourself?” Graham interjected, sounding very much like law enforcement. “Is there something illegal going on down there?”

Victor’s eyes shot open wide and his mouth gaped at the thought. “I don’t know what’s going on down there, but I suspect that you do. You were down there when I was. You were waiting.” The doctor’s tone sounded accusatory, almost hostile as he looked toward the sheriff. “Didn’t you bring a patient there?”

Graham exhaled and seemed to lose an inch or two of his height. His eyes were still rimmed in red and the shirt he was no longer crisp and starched, but bore the wrinkles of man who had slept in it. The stubble on his face was thicker and there was an odor of gin on his breath still from the night before. However, it was not the doctor’s scrutiny that made him shrink, but Emma’s troubled gaze. “Regina had me bring in a patient. She operated the elevator.”

Emma shook her head, feeling that the conversation was veering off course. “There is a patient down there? Or patients?”

Both men seemed to study their feet. “Plural,” Graham finally supplied. “That would be plural.”

Liam put his hand on his brother’s shoulder as if to hold him back from punching either man for keeping the information back from them. Killian was uncharacteristically quiet, which left Liam unsettled. “What kind of patients? Why would they be down there?”

Victor spoke this time, clearing his throat. “Mental patients, I believe,” he said with a shake of his head. “That’s the one I was asked to consult on and how I know that there is a ward down there. The patient was a young woman and needed to be sedated. I was asked to administer a sedative and prescribe the same to be taken orally as needed. I assume she is still there because every so often I am asked to complete the prescription again.”

“Who requests that of you?” Emma managed to ask.

“The mayor,” Victor supplied. “She says that the woman is a danger to herself and others. I assumed that to be the case since the sheriff here is the one who brought her in.”

“This woman?” Killian asked, taking a single step forward as if in a school spelling bee. “Who is she?”

Again the sheriff and doctor exchanged a look. “We only have an initial, but I believe the doctor will confirm that she is listed as a B. French.”

Graham was the one who suggested viewing the building’s blueprints before they charged downstairs by any means necessary. He and Victor were discussing the best way to obtain them without raising the mayor’s suspicions, the sheriff blanching at the idea she might already be one step ahead of them.

“I concur,” said Liam, running a nervous hand through his hair and down his face. “It is always careless to approach a battle without a plan. It’s best we know exactly what lies before us.” Emma could see from his tense face that he was already running the scenarios in his head.”

“We’re going to think this through,” she assured both brothers, crossing her arms over her chest and rubbing her arms up and down with her hands. “If we find Belle, then we have tool to use to strike a bargain with Mr. Gold.” She jumped a bit as Killian’s arm wrapped over her shoulder, his voice soft and asking if she was cold.

“I could fetch you some coffee,” he said. “It might help.”

She shook her head and waited for the two men to return. “Anything?”

Victor rolled his lips over his teeth, creating a narrow line of a mouth. “I’m afraid there is not much of a way to obtain the records for the construction without alerting the mayor in some way. It might be best to take a chance.”

***AAA***

Emma insisted on looking at the elevator herself, fitting into the space and running her hand along the panel. Victor stood to one side of her and explained the extra buttons that called for help if it was to get stuck or stopped it if there was a problem. He didn’t quite understand why, but he felt that he needed to share such information with her and educate her to something she should know.

“You didn’t see what they pressed when you were in here before?”

Victor looked away, inspecting one of the two overhead lights that seemed dimmer than the other. “I wasn’t thinking that there was anything to notice,” he explained passively. “Emma, I’m a doctor, but I’m no saint. I wasn’t setting out to help the poor woman. I was just doing my job. Here at the hospital that means doing the mayor’s bidding from time to time.”

His look was apologetic as she studied him and weighed the words carefully. “I don’t know,” she said. “I can’t quite put together how you can do the right thing only part of the time. Morality isn’t just needed when it is convenient.”

The doctor shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I’m a doctor. I’m not a saint. Remember that.” He rocked again, looking pointedly at the panel of buttons. “I don’t see anything, do you?”

She shook her head confirming that she saw nothing that would indicate how they could make the elevator in that direction. “Why are you helping us now?” she managed to ask. “Won’t that hurt your relationship with the mayor?”

He laughed bitterly. “That’s a question for our sheriff,” he said. “I’m just trying to keep my job. I don’t lie, Emma. I am not purposely trying to deceive you. I am just keeping a few secrets. You must be able to understand that. Even a woman like yourself must keep secrets.”

Emma seemed to pale at the insinuation and pushed her hair back with her hands. “You aren’t accusing me of anything, are you, doctor?”

He shook his head a little too fast as the doors to the elevator opened again. “I don’t accuse,” he said. “I observe. And from what I’ve observed, you’re a woman with many secrets.”

***AAA***

“She’s not at home,” Graham said to Killian as the two men leaned over a crude outline that Victor had sketched of the building’s layout. Graham was attempting to draw from memory the order of the rooms downstairs. “That worries me.”

“She’s a busy woman,” Killian answered, unsure why the sheriff was sharing this information with him. They were not friends and honestly he hated the way that Graham’s eyes seemed to stay on Emma a bit too long. He always seemed to be searching for her. His hand would accidentally touch her arm or shoulder before snatching away. And he brought her little things, something to eat or a magazine that he thought she might like. “Perhaps she has meetings or something.”

Graham gave a sad smile. “She’s not that busy of a woman,” he said sardonically. “Most of her meetings are not that at all…” He dropped off. I just think we should be prepared. You said yourself that you’ve seen her come here and go to the basement ward.”

“Aye, she knows how to use that elevator,” Killian said. “I had hoped to follow her and glean some more information from her.”

Graham looked aghast at the idea. “She’s not a woman to be trifled with at all,” the sheriff offered. “I know her well and she has very little use for sentimentality or emotion. Even logic seems to not fit with her unless she is able to find it to her advantage. In other words, she would not let you have any information she did not want you to have.” He caressed the fake wood of the counter and looked beyond to where Emma and Victor were talking. Killian’s eyes followed.

“I feel that I should say something,” he responded. “I’m not blind. I’ve seen the looks you have given her. But I don’t know that I can stake a claim in a woman who is more her own than any man’s.” Killian knew that Graham was certainly interested in Emma, but he also knew that she was not as interested in him. She admired him, according to her. She thought he was kind and good hearted, but she was not in love with him.

Graham nodded. “I’m not in a position to do anything to change that,” he said. “I don’t have it in me to fight.”

***AAA***

Graham had made up a story about missing patient belongings as his reason for being at the hospital for so long, as well as needing Emma’s assistance. When Leroy passed by with one of the other dwarfs, the sheriff jotted notes down and made comments about the actual value of the items that had supposedly been stolen. However, he spent most of the time consulting with Emma, Killian, and Liam over the elevator, deciding with the rest that trying to make it work was not feasible and they would have to go another route.

Killian took a different approach, pretending to work at his actual job as the others made attempts to look busy. Emma placed a hand on Killian’s shoulder as Liam donned a hospital gown to pretend he needed a checkup. “You really think we can fool Regina with pretending to be busy?” Emma asked him. “It seems a bit simplistic.”

“I think we have to keep our guard up, love,” he answered without really answering. Lolling his head back to look up at her, he gave her a quick smile. “You are worried?”

“Of course,” she said. “I wouldn’t be normal if I wasn’t worried. This plan to get down there sounds awfully dangerous and without a good alternative.”

“That is the point,” he told her. “There is nothing else we can do.” He frowned as he felt the box under the table as his knee brushed against it. “I would feel better if you were not to attempt it.”

Her grip on his shoulder was a little tighter. “You said you would not disallow me,” she reminded him. “If it is not too dangerous for you to lower yourself down the shaft of that machine with only a rope and nothing to protect you from the ton of steel and machinery balanced just overhead, I should think that it was safe enough for me.” She did not look as certain as she sounded and her eyes blinked several times before she focused on his worried face.

“I just think that…” He shook his head to dispel the words. “I have no doubts that you could do this. You’ll be brilliant at it and put me to shame with your agility. It isn’t fear that you won’t succeed love.” He turned in the chair so that his arm circled around her lower back and she stood between his legs. “I would just feel safer to have you on this level looking out for me with Liam than I would leaving that to Victor.”

She chewed at the side of her mouth thoughtfully. “I suppose you have a point there,” she said. “Graham will be with you.”

“He and I will bring her back to this level and Victor will sedate her if necessary,” Killian said, explaining the plan again. “Ruby has found a place for her to hide until we can move forward again.”

“You have all the answers to my questions,” Emma said, loosely looping her arms over his shoulders. “I am duly impressed.”

***AAA***

Liam positioned himself on the second floor and called for the elevator. Victor had done his best to separate off hallways in front of the service elevator bays. They did not need an audience. From the first floor Killian, Emma, Victor, and Graham waited for the buzzing sound that would indicate the cab of the elevator was stopped. They would have very little time before the alarm sounded and the maintenance staff would come running.

Two ropes were fastened to the railing on the walls and the other ends around Graham and Killian’s waists. The ring echoed down the shaft to indicate that the elevator had arrived upstairs and Emma wondered briefly why they weren’t using what appeared to be a ladder as they pried the doors open.

“We can’t climb it fast enough,” Killian said as though he could read her mind. “It’s better this way.”

She opened her mouth to respond but the buzzing warning of the emergency brake button being pressed echoed even louder. Both men backed into the darkness of the elevator tunnel, one hand over the other as they dropped past her line of sight and toward the basement floor.

**_A/N: This chapter was a bit hard to write, but I hope you like it anyway. Next chapter will have Belle and some Snowing, as well as Regina and Rumple…of course with a lot of Captain Swan. Enjoy!_ **


	34. Chapter 34

**_A/N: Thank you all for the feedback, thoughts, kudos, threats, favorites, follows, and more. I enjoy hearing what you have to say. This chapter was supposed to have some serious moments, but I’m afraid that I let it get a little silly. So I hope you still enjoy it._ **

Belle looked as though she had been tortured for weeks. At least that was what Graham whispered to Emma as he brought her into the room at the sheriff’s station where he was trying to get everyone settled. She sat on the edge of a chair with her head down and her eyes wildly searching the floor. Her hair stuck out in several directions, frizzy and unkempt. The hospital gown was much too big for her, the ties wrapped around several times before knotting it into place.

“Hi,” Emma said as she approached, kneeling down to eye level with the woman. “I’m Emma.”

The woman gave no indication that she heard Emma, her skittish nature reminding the princess of a rabbit that had been caught in the palace hedge maze when she was a child. Emma looked over her shoulder at the four men, all leaned forward as if listening for some softly spoken clue. That was not at all intimidating, Emma thought, rocking backward onto her heels.

“Maybe some of you should leave,” she said, keeping one eye trained on the patient. “She doesn’t need us all hovering.”

The men nodded in agreement, but none made a move to go, obviously thinking she meant someone other than them. Emma sighed heavily. “Killian and Liam. Why don’t you get dinner at Granny’s? You can bring Belle and I back something later?” She flashed a smile at both of them and hoped they would go quietly. Killian approached her and gave her a quick graze of his lips on her cheek. As she grabbed for his hands, she noticed the rawness of them, burnt from the rope.

“They are fine, love,” he said, trying to soothe her as she held them close to her in a better light. “Nothing I haven’t done before.”

Liam clapped his brother on the back and pushed him to the door. “I’ll get him cleaned up, Emma,” he said.

That left Graham and Victor, who both sat perfectly still as if she would not notice them there. She reminded Graham that he needed to check in on a case he was working on and asked Victor to check on Mary Margaret who was due to do another volunteer shift at the hospital. “Don’t tell her anything,” Emma cautioned. “The less she knows, the better.”

Victor gave a little grin and hopped down from the metal and wood desk. “I couldn’t tell her what the hell is going on even if I wanted to do so. Maybe someone can fill me in on why we just busted out a mental patient. I’m sure there is a great reason.” He moved out of the room with more gusto than the two brothers, leaving Graham to hesitate.

“I could…”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Thank you for your help. We’ll be fine.”

He nodded, grabbing his jacket and following the same path as the others to the door. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

She waited to heard the door click, knowing that he was locking up as though he was the last to leave. She did not want to be interrupted, as any loud noise might spook Belle even more. When she was sure he was gone, she leaned in a bit closer. “I know this is all very confusing,” she said. “I promise that I can help with that. You just have to let me.”

“What do you want from me?” Belle asked, her eyes darting up to Emma’s for the first time. “What is it that you think I can do?”

Emma reached out a hand and pushed back some of the hair that hung in front of Belle’s face, the woman jumping at the contact. “Sorry,” Emma said. “I just thought we could talk. I don’t know what you remember. What do you remember before the hospital, for example?”

***AAA***

Killian rubbed his hands against the softness of the denim pants he wore and realized that he was lucky he had not rubbed them even rawer with the rope. It was not the first time that he had used the hardened material without gloves, as he was first and foremost a sailor. When Liam had first been commissioned, he would bring home pieces of rope to teach his younger brother the different types of knots. Killian had studied them religiously and practiced each night after the candles were blown out and the rest of the village had retired.

He and Liam sat outside of Granny’s sharing a plate of her meatloaf and mashed potatoes and waiting on word from the others. It had been at Emma’s suggestion that they split up, having found Belle to be fragile and for all intents and purposes scared. Too many people around her seemed to push her further into herself.

“Do you suppose she even remembers anything at all?” Liam asked, spearing a crumbling bit of the meatloaf with his fork. “Or does she have these same memories as some of us were obviously given?”

“I cannot say as I would know, brother,” Killian answered listlessly. He was aware that Emma was going to be quite careful in the face of questioning the woman, but the very idea of her being alone with a woman who had such deep ties to the Dark One was disturbing. He knew that the power held by Rumpelstiltskin was immense, even if it was just a fraction of the myths he had heard.

Liam chewed another bite of food and pushed the plate toward his brother. “You should eat. The rest of us at least had some food at the hospital, but you’re practically shaking from hunger.”

“I’ll eat when we have clearer answers,” Killian offered, pushing the plate back. He sat up straighter as Ruby appeared with a water pitcher and pinched look on her face.

“I haven’t heard anything,” she said, filling each of their glasses in turn. “She looked horrible though.”

Belle French had been cowering in the corner of what could only be described as a cell. Her tangled hair fell in front of her eyes and her features were gaunt and pale after so many days out of the sun. Graham had carried her from the room and back to the elevator that now came when they summoned it, her eyes wildly looking for any sign of familiarity as she recoiled when Killian asked if she needed anything. Even as they removed her from the hospital, Victor and Liam creating a diversion so they could slip out and into the patrol car, she had said nothing other than repeating a few phrases back to Emma when asked about her wellbeing.

“She’s been through an ordeal,” Killian muttered. “I don’t know that she can recover from it.” He had doubts that she could somehow gain her life back after whatever torture she has endured.”

Ruby hesitated over the table, her fingers clutching the pitcher tightly in her hands. “You’re probably not going to tell me, but I’m going to ask anyway. Why are you doing this? Do you know her or something? I don’t get…”

Liam looked up from his plate, the paler blue eyes not completely like his brother’s. “I think it is best that you don’t ask,” he suggested. “I am sorry to offend.”

She shrugged, pulling the pitcher back closer to her. “I get it,” she said. “I’m just curious. After all, you seem to be risking my life and Victor’s for this quest. I thought we should at least know what’s going on.”

***AAA***

Emma had given up the awkward position of kneeling in front of the young woman, pulling over a chair and sitting as unobtrusively as possible. “There must be something,” she said, prodding gently. “A memory of something other than the hospital.”

Belle blinked, her eyes narrow and determined. “I don’t recall.”

Sighing, Emma held her hands under her chin. “Belle, I’m not an officer. I don’t know if that makes a difference, but I’m just trying to get some answers. You see. I’m not from this place. I want to get back to my home, but I can’t. Not until I make a deal with a man named Mr. Gold or something like a deal. I think you might know him. I think you can help.”

“I don’t know him,” Belle said, her eyes darkened, but Emma knew she did not recognize the name. “I don’t know anyone named Mr. Gold.”

“He’s gone by other names,” Emma said, realizing she had to reveal a bit more than she wished. “I’ve heard him called Rumpelstiltskin.” She almost expected some sort of magic as she said his name, but the air remained unchanged and uncharged.

Belle’s chin popped upward sharply, eyes flashing with confusion and realization at the same time. “The man from the book?”

***AAA***

Graham inserted another key into the lock, his expression sour as he tried to turn it without success. Emma had seemed adamant. Get the book from the library. Never mind that the library had not been open to the public in recent memory. Never mind that Regina would ask questions if she saw him. Never mind that the keys for public buildings were on a ring of about thirty or forty keys.

“I’m doing her bidding,” he mumbled, trying another key and failing. “I’m a sheriff and I am doing the bidding of an accused thief.” If he wasn’t so cold there or frustrated he would have laughed.

There were only five keys left when he finally felt the right one give way the sticky lock. Using just a bit more effort he unlocked the door and found himself in the musty and dusty confines of the library. Long rows of shelves lined either side and continued upward to the ceiling. Colorful volumes were muted by a thick layer of dust that choked him and burned at his already red lined eyes.

Feeling along the shelf that Emma had told him about from her conversation with Belle, he pulled at the tomes and scanned their titles with growing realization that he was not sure what he was looking for or why.

Emma was a beautiful woman. He didn’t deny that. She was beguiling and charming, fascinating and just a bit naughty with the way she could look through a man and into his soul. Granted she had never looked at him like that, but she had the ability. He found himself wanting to make her smile. He wanted to see her light up the same way she did when she was with Killian.

He rubbed his hand down his face and groaned. She wanted the book. He would find her the book.

***AAA***

Ruby seemed giddy as Mary Margaret sat across from her, both women whispering furiously and fast as the diner emptied out from the supper crowd. They barely noticed when Emma joined them, her face flushed from quick jog with a large book in her bag. She’d been thinking about how to have the conversation with Mary Margaret, how to convince her that perhaps the stories about life in the Enchanted Forest would be perfect fodder for a man lying in a coma with probably no memory of his former life.

She had time on her jog over to come up with three sample speeches, but in the end she used none of them. Instead, she tossed the dusty volume on the table and said. “I think you should read this to him.”

It was Ruby who responded first. “Seriously? You want her to read him fairy tales? I thought we were waking him up not putting him to sleep without nightmares. Where do you come up with this?”

Mary Margaret’s response was a little gentler. “Maybe I’ll try that one day soon.”

“Tonight,” Emma said, still catching her breath. “You can read to him tonight. I talked to Victor and he said he’ll look the other way when visiting hours end.” She smiled, a rehearsed expression that she hoped seemed more spontaneous.

“I just spent two hours at the hospital,” Mary Margaret said, stirring her drink with the plastic straw. “Are you trying to get me out of the loft for tonight? Is that it?” She grimaced. “I don’t want to know what you have planned.”

Ruby’s mouth gaped. “Are you planning a little kinky time with Killian? You are, aren’t you?” She smiled proudly. “I’m so happy for you. You’re getting over that prude thing.” Reaching out, she grasped Emma’s folded hands.

“I’m not,” Emma protested, not clarifying which woman’s questions she found more offensive. “I’m just…”

“By the way,” Mary Margaret continued, ignoring Emma’s discomfort. “I want to know something. Why were there two men in the loft this morning? Graham and Killian were both asleep when I woke up.” She shared a knowing look at Ruby. “Is there something you want to share?”

Ruby hummed with excitement, darting her eyes away as if she had seen too much. “Two men, Emma! You may have just surpassed the master.”

Emma groaned. “I just think that this book might be the key to helping that man wake up. Read to him.”

**_Wanna tell me what you’re thinking? I’m dying to know._ **

 

 


	35. Chapter 35

The toe of Emma’s boot tapped rhythmically against the leg of the table in Killian’s room without her even noticing it. It wasn’t until the annoyance of the table moving and the sound echoing bothered both brothers that she was even aware. Killian gently rested his hand on her thigh to get her to stop while Liam made a face. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, flexing and unflexing her hands, which while still full of nervous energy was a quieter display.

“Who is with Belle?” Liam asked, his fingers digging into a bowl of tortilla chips that Ruby had sent with them and dipping the crisp chips into a bowl of salsa. Emma and Killian had laughed at him earlier, as the salsa was spicy and despite more than a few dips and bites, he acted surprised at the spiciness each time.

“Victor gave her something to help her sleep,” Emma answered, leaning into Killian affectionately and grinning as his lips brushed against her temple. “Graham is working on some paperwork so he’s keeping an eye on her.”

The older brother nodded and then frowned as Killian leaned a bit closer to tuck a strand of Emma’s hair behind her ear. “I still object to this,” he muttered. “Perhaps I should go back to my own quarters rather than sit here.” He gave his brother another look as Emma blushed.

“We still don’t know what exactly Mr. Gold does or doesn’t know,” she said with a shake of her head at Liam’s uncomfortable stance. “He seems a bit too smug to not know a thing.”

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “I haven’t had many dealings with him, but he’s certainly not in the dark. That’s why we have to be very careful in our approach.” His hand still rested on her thigh, alternating in a stroking and patting motion.

“So how do we approach him,” Liam wondered aloud, holding a hand up to ward off Killian’s obvious answer, “other than carefully? We cannot just walk into his shop and say something like, ‘I’d like to procure some trinkets. By the way, do you know what is required to break the curse? If you tell us, we’ll reunite you with Belle.’”

“It appears you’ve thought about it long enough to develop a speech,” Killian chuckled. “But sadly no, I don’t think that is the right approach. I would much prefer a direct approach with him, but I don’t think that is possible.”

Emma scooted down in her chair and rested her neck on the straight back of it. “He’s cagey and conniving, even in this incarnation. We’re going to have to have a plan. No storming the castle and hoping for the best.” Her eyes drifted closed a bit as Killian’s hand continued to soothe her.

“It might be best to know more than his memories though, milady,” Liam added, never quite able to take away that moniker from his vocabulary. “Magic. The man had some of the most powerful magic in the realm. He’s not using it here. Why not?”

Killian felt her tense, as magic still a sore spot for her to discuss with anyone. She revealed it nobody but him, wanting to save herself from the embarrassment maybe? “Magic seems to be a funny thing in this realm,” she explained. “I don’t know that there is much of it here.”

Maybe it was her soft way of speaking or the sincere look on her face before she looked away, but Liam seemed to believe her. “It just seems odd. Magic doesn’t just disappear. It still exists. Just not in the same form. So you’d think he’d still have his powers.”

Killian smiled weakly. “None of us are wizards, brother.”

***AAA***

The phone rang incessantly as Graham waited for Ruby to pick up. When the recorded voice told him to leave a message, he hung up and dialed again. “Answer, damn it,” he muttered, resting one arm on the wall and his head against it. “Ruby, please.” He knew that Emma had no phone on her, cell phones seemingly a complex concept for her. She was probably at the bed and breakfast, as Mary Margaret had already called her own landline two or three times with no results.

Finally, the waitress answered. “Ruby! Meet us at the hospital. Bring Emma!”

***AAA**

Emma had a hard time keeping up with Ruby as she led them through the paths of the wooded area that circled the landlocked areas of the town. Emma had been on some of them before, but Ruby seemed to careen on and off the paths and down by a creek before turning back and up another incline toward what appears to Emma to be more trees. She could remember Ruby back home, always taking her for jaunts through the woods and telling her not to tell her parents how they had left the horses and carriages behind to just run.

“Aunt Ruby why?” a young Emma would ask, blonde curls bouncing on her shoulders as they ducked under low hanging branches. “Why can’t I tell daddy?”

“Your daddy wants you to be a good princess,” Ruby said. “He wants you to be good and kind, but I think you need to be strong and brave too. So I’ll teach you how to be brave.”

Ruby had done just that. She had encouraged the young princess to climb trees and swim in the creek when nobody knew to look for them. She taught her track animals based on their footprints, recognizing each woodland creature with only a partial indentation.

Ruby might not remember who she was, but the woman was still a skilled tracker. Graham had seemed surprised when Emma said that Ruby should take the lead, but thankfully he had agreed. He’d only called her to get Emma there, but she was turning out to be an asset.

“Maybe over there,” Ruby called, pointing at a bridge that seemed to connect only one dirt path with another.

“I don’t understand how he could have escaped,” Mary Margaret said, her breathing a bit heavy from the walk. “He moved his hand again, squeezed mine, but Dr. Whale said I must have imagined it.”

Emma glanced to where Ruby was standing still, something feral in the way she kept her face upturned as if listening and sniffing out her prey. For a moment she felt like she was back home again, reminded of the night when she was a little more than 16 and a child from a neighboring village had gone missing. Ruby had led the charge and found the toddler asleep in a pile of leaves after he had strayed from his family’s farm.

“He’s most likely fine,” Emma said, hoping that she sounded reassuring. “It was difficult enough to keep up the charade of calling him by only pronouns. She could not call him father or daddy, let alone by his given name.

Graham shot her a look, questions obvious as they stood waiting on Ruby’s next move. He’d whispered one of them to her after she had arrived. “Just what is it with you and the patients of this hospital, Emma? Are you trying to save them all?”

She felt very alone again. She had felt this way before, trying to understand why her parents shut her out and claimed for it to be for her own protection. They had each other. They loved each other. She did not doubt their love for her, but she also knew that they were like two pieces of a puzzle that fit together. Even as their daughter she was on the fringes. Maybe that was why she appreciated this time with a woman named Mary Margaret. She had her mother to herself.

Ruby’s shout broke through her thoughts and the soles of her boots slid on the leaves and debris just off the path. There next to the water was her father, barely breathing, dirty from a fall, a small gash on his forehead that had stopped bleeding some time earlier. He mumbled and his eyes fluttered, resting on Mary Margaret before they closed again.

When they arrived back at the hospital, Victor looked a bit tired and harried, checking vitals and offering generic explanations for the reason that the man had run away. Emma could see in his eyes that he was hiding something, casting a glance at Ruby, she realized that Ruby saw it too.

Mary Margaret went back to David’s bedside, looking every bit the concerned wife that she was but didn’t know it. Her hand gripped his and she nodded along with him as he answered a few of Graham’s questions.

“What did you do?” Ruby hissed at the doctor, her eyes flashing angrily. “Don’t tell me nothing and pretend like I’m stupid. Just tell me the truth.”

Victor closed his eyes, perhaps hoping that the two women staring at him as though they could read his thoughts would somehow disappear. “You don’t understand,” he said opening his eyes to just slits. “I…Mayor Mills…she is listed as his emergency contact, as she’s the one who found him the first time. She’s been asking some questions and I told her that he’s awake.”

Emma stepped in front of Ruby before the argument turned more personal. She wanted to yell at him about trust, but there wasn’t time for that. “You called Regina?” she asked rhetorically. “How long? How long do we have?”

“Minutes,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. I had to…”

Emma shook her head. “What else? What else did you tell her?”

The doctor licked his lips. “Nothing.”

Emma wasn’t sure she believed him.

***AAA***

“He’s married,” Ruby said, stating the obvious in the car that Mary Margaret drove them from the hospital in. “I know that we established this already, but it needs to be repeated. And it was getting too quiet in here.” She pinched her face into a dissatisfied look. “I mean he was in a coma so it’s not like he lied to you, but did nobody check for a wedding ring?”

“Ruby,” Mary Margaret said warily. “Now is not the time.”

“He wasn’t wearing one,” Emma corrected, sinking lower into the seat. She could see Killian and Liam sitting together at one of the tables by the windows. They were trying to look but not look, a technique that neither did well and Killian even less so.

Censoring Ruby was not easily done. “I’m also wondering about this Katherine woman. Who the hell is she? Where did she come from? She doesn’t eat at the diner? I’d know her if she did.”

“Ruby,” Mary Margaret said warily. “Please…”

“No, I don’t trust her,” Ruby said with an emphatic nod of the head and folding of her arms. “A woman who lives alone and cooks for herself when there is a perfectly good and good priced diner is not to be trusted.”

Getting no response from the two women, Ruby said her goodbyes, hopping out of the car and telling Mary Margaret that David was on list too, as well as Victor. “My list and my memory are both long and good,” she said with a wink. “Most men don’t live long if they are on it.”

It was an empty threat and one that would have made Emma and her mother laugh just a few days before. But the two women seemed bone weary and wary of any conversation about the subject. It had been a long day and now there were two more people involved in the intrigue and mystery of Storybrooke.

“Ruby has a point,” Mary Margaret said, pulling the knitted beret over her short hair a little tighter. It was a nervous gesture that Emma remembered. Her mother always fidgeted with her crown on cloak. She hated for the sensations to overwhelm her. “This Katherine woman never came looking for her husband? He’s been missing God knows how long and it never occurred to her to go to the hospital? Really?”

“She said that they had a fight,” Emma said, mentally adding the woman to her list of people she could recognize. “I suppose she thought that he had left town.”

“I suppose,” Mary Margaret responded with a sigh that said she really didn’t believe that. “It just doesn’t seem right. This isn’t some big city. There is one hospital. That’s it. Either you look there or you don’t. It’s not like it was an overwhelming task.”

Emma nodded, trying to imagine these cities her mother was speaking about with multiple hospitals. Storybrooke seemed quite large to her and the prospect of larger was quite scary. “Are you sure you’re well? I know that you’re probably hurting after he seemed to respond to you…”

Mary Margaret held her index finger up over her lips and rested it on the tip of her nose. “It’s silly to get worked up over this, Emma,” she said. “Like Ruby said. It’s not like he was lying to me. The man’s been in a coma. I’m the one getting my hopes up over a married man who had not even spoken to me. I read to him. He grabbed my hand. That’s the extent of our connection.”

“It’s quite alright if you do have feelings for him,” Emma said soothingly. “I’ll understand.”

“No, it’s silly and I’m not going to let this ruin my evening,” the teacher said with a firm set to her jaw. “Now, I’m ready to go home. How about you? Or did you want to see Killian first.”

Emma looked out of the vehicle’s window toward the diner, seeing Killian’s hopeful expression. If she went to him, she knew he would not likely leave until morning. However, the strength of that need was lessened by her mother’s pained expression. “I’m ready.” The guilt that she was not even saying goodbye to him was palpable, but she would make it up to him. He’s got to know that. She had so much to tell him.

Mary Margaret turned the key in the ignition. “Then let’s head home.”

***AAA***

For the second night in a row, Emma felt much more like the mother than the daughter, tucking in the quilted blanket around Mary Margaret and smoothing back her soft, dark hair with her hand. Tucking the large book of fairy tales under her arm, Emma climbed the stairs to the bed that she had staked out as her own and curled up under the covers. Lamps no longer scared her with their immediate and brighter light than say a candle, but it was still a small jolt of excitement when the room flooded with light.

She flipped through the pages of the book, her hands smoothing over the ink illustrations and eyes skimming the written words. There were both familiar and unfamiliar stories, her own image appearing a few times. She could see her friends and her family, all familiar with their appearance and actions. It was comforting and warm as the words washed over her.

She was staring at an illustration of her parents at their wedding when heard the sound at her window. Tiny taps echoed in quick succession as though rain was peppering the glass. She pushed the book away from her and unfurled her legs as she pulled back the white gauzy curtain and looked down at the pavement below where Killian stood under the glow of a streetlamp, staring up as though he could not believe she was there in front of him.

She smiled back to him, lips curling up at his hopeful expression. Not knowing how the pattern of fire escapes worked, Emma padded down to the lower level and opened the front door of the building and smiled again, the light breeze blowing the blue gown she wore about her bare legs.

“I wanted to say goodnight,” he said as she leaned against the door frame and watched his almost shy shift of weight from one foot to the other. “Impractical, I know, but every time I closed my eyes you were staring back at me.”

There was no answer from her, arms hugging herself to protect her form from the cool air.

He took a step closer to her. “Is your mother okay?”

“She’s going to be fine,” Emma said slowly, realizing that Ruby must have filled them on David and Katherine, as well Regina’s smug reaction to the situation. “She’s asleep now.”

“Were you sleeping as well?” he asked, looking a bit chagrin that he might have disturbed her.

“No,” she said, explaining to him about the book and that she had to see it. He was closer, his hand resting on her hip and the other ducking below blonde hair that fell over her shoulders. “I couldn’t sleep either.”

He slanted his lips over hers, just breathing her in at first, not actually touching. The warmth of her breathing heated his own lips, a tingling sensation that spread through him. He whispered that she was beautiful, lovingly running the tips of his fingers where the gown ended and her skin appeared. When he finally closed his lips over hers it was a slow and languid kiss. There was nothing hurried about it, for a moment feeling like they had all the time in the world.

“You shouldn’t keep coming over here,” she said with a slight giggle. “You are supposed to be helping your brother.”

“You’re much prettier to look upon,” he teased back, lips pecking hers again. “Much sweeter to kiss.”

She laughed again. “I’m not inviting you upstairs, Killian. And you don’t want Granny to lock you out.” She gave him her best chastising look, but still rested her hands at his shoulder and the nape of his neck. “And I should hope that you enjoy kissing me more than you enjoy kissing your brother.”

His teeth flashed in a more than amused smile at her. “I would ask to come up, but I have seen the accommodations. You did not even invite me to your bedchamber, Emma.”

“Killian,” she said his name warningly. “I need to go back.” She hesitated. “Do you have hours tomorrow at the hospital?”

He nodded affirmatively, holding her still in his arms. “I should like to see you though,” he added.

It was her turn to nod. “Perhaps at the well?”


	36. Chapter 36

**_A/N: I understand that one guest reviewer and/or several private messagers did not want me to go there with Katherine and the whole David married to someone else storyline from the show from season one. Way to jump to conclusions. I am not following the show’s plot from then. Mary Margaret isn’t getting arrested. Katherine’s not going to be missing/presumed dead. However, no it won’t be as easy as David is awake now he and Mary Margaret are together._ **

**_I don’t mind constructive criticism. You are free to like or dislike my stories. My career is all about writing. I do it all day long. So your dislike of it won’t bother me in the least. It will make me wonder about your sanity for reading something you dislike that much._ **

**_Now that I have that off my chest. There’s a lot going on in this chapter so sit back and enjoy. I haven’t estimated the number of chapters yet, but we’re about to get to the end soon. I hope that means I can have it (and Waking Up) finished before my baby arrives. Enjoy!_ **

Mary Margaret hurriedly wiped up the water that had dripped on the counter from washing the dishes then dropping a paper towel to the floor to do the same. “Radio said we could expect rain this morning,” she called out to Emma, who was scanning the headlines on the morning newspaper that Mary Margaret had delivered each morning. “I don’t know if you have a rain coat, but I have extra. The wind here can make it pretty nasty so it is easier than an umbrella sometimes.”

The teacher seemed nervous as she dried her favorite mug and placed it on the shelf above the coffee maker. She almost closed the cabinet door when she reached back and adjusted it so that the handle matched the others. Normally she would have laughed at herself for being so anal, but it was hard to be jovial or self-deprecating when your life felt very much out of your own control.

Emma thanked her mother for the offer of the coat and asked for the third time since arriving downstairs if she was alright. The brunette assured her that everything was fine and she was merely having a case of the Monday blues after the weekend.

“It’s quite normal to be disappointed,” Emma said as Mary Margaret’s eyes lingered over the tattered fairy tale book on the counter. “I just don’t think you should jump to conclusions. There could be some sort of misunderstanding.”

Mary Margaret snorted inelegantly at the idea, reaching the row of coat hooks she had hung that were made out of mismatched dresser knobs and door knobs. She pulled down her own black and white polka dotted rain coat, shoving her arms inside and adjusting the hood in back. She grabbed a red one for Emma. “I hardly think this is a misunderstanding,” she said, startling Emma that she even joined in the conversation after such a pause. “I mean what could it be? David has a twin brother who she was actually supposed to be married to and she’s not aware David took his place? She’s some psychotic woman who comes into hospital rooms and claims to be married to the patient? Or maybe they were married, got a divorce, but she didn’t get a good settlement. So she came up with this plan to make him think they were still married to get a better divorce settlement this time.” Mary Margaret laughed at herself. “No, wait. I know. She was really the one who tried to kill him for his insurance money and now he’s still alive so she’ll try again.”

Emma blinked rapidly at the soliloquy her mother had just delivered. “I wasn’t quite as dramatic with my thoughts, but I suppose it is unlikely that there is a misunderstanding. I just meant that you should not lose hope. You felt a connection to him. He responded to you when nobody else could break through.”

Mary Margaret fastened the buttons on her raincoat. “It’s a nice thought. And if it had turned out another way, it could fit right in with the stories in that book, but Emma they are just stories. I let myself get swept up in what if and fantasy because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone. It was immature and silly. It was like being a teenage girl with a crush on a guy in a rock band.” She looked at the watch on her wrist. “I’m going to be late. Are you coming? Don’t you have to work today?”

Emma threw the coat over her shoulders and followed her mother out the door with the book tucked into the tote bag she carried. “I don’t think you should give up yet,” Emma said with a firm nod. “I still have hope for you.”

***AAA***

Belle dipped her spoon into the oatmeal, carefully stirring the cinnamon and sugar around as she heard Emma’s voice. She might not be in her prison hold of a hospital room, but she still did not feel free. Ruby and Graham had arranged for her to stay in a room that had been used to question suspects, Graham providing the space and Ruby the bedding and accessories.

“None of this sounds familiar?” Emma asked, pushing another page of the book in front of her. “I thought at perhaps…”

Belle’s usually passive expression, a side effect of the medication, was turned into a twisted grimace. “They are fairy tales. That would mean fiction.” She looked a bit like a school teacher trying to get through to a stubborn student. “They are made up stories. They aren’t real.”

Emma frowned, flipping the pages again and running her fingers over the raised lettering. “Mr. Gold. You don’t remember him at all?”

Belle took another bite of her breakfast, ignoring the question as she swallowed the warm food. “Can I ask you some questions, Emma?”

Knowing that fair was only fair, Emma leaned back in the chair and nodded. Her open palmed stance indicated that she was ready, but truthfully the concept scared her. “Fire away.”

“Why are you so interested in my relationship with this Mr. Gold?” Belle’s voice sounded stronger than it had before, a defiance there that had been missing when she was first found in the hospital’s basement. Emma admired it, but she also knew that it was a dangerous thing. She was also concerned that Regina was going to find out that the woman was missing from her hold. Time was short.

“I think that there are things you don’t remember,” Emma said. “And I think that those are the things that can help me with Mr. Gold.”

“Why do you need his help?”

Emma frowned at the table between them, the entirety of her planning seeming to swirl in front of her. “I’m sure that this all seems quite overwhelming and even a bit unbelievable,” she began, hoping that there was some compassion still left in the woman across from her. “But you see, I need Mr. Gold’s help to get back to my home. I need his help to get my family back. He isn’t just going to help me out of the goodness of his heart. That’s where you come in.”

Belle raised her eyes to meet Emma’s, a vague understanding coming over her. “You want me to convince him.”

“Not exactly,” Emma said, hoping that her words were not going to hurt the cause. “I think that knowing you are alive and well will serve our purpose. I think that he will help when we tell him of your being here.” She firmly held the woman’s gaze, looking for a new realization and hoping it would be taken well.

“You are wanting to use me as a pawn?”

“I suppose that sounds quite selfish and horrible, especially when spoken aloud.”

***AAA***

Killian had received less than five minutes of instruction on the copy machine, which meant that he panicked when the machine clunked and beeped out an angry protest when the paper jammed. He was searching for someone to rescue him when he saw the woman that Emma had mentioned the night before. Katherine was standing at the nurse’s station. Her eyes were cast downward, but he could see the furtive glances she gave toward the room where David lay sleeping.

“He asked her to leave,” Victor said, his voice low and almost conspiratorial. “Said he couldn’t deal with it or her.”

“It is a difficult situation,” Killian said just of quietly. “Why is she still here?”

“Stubborn?” Victor suggested. “She’s being encouraged, I suppose. Who would throw a marriage out the window when you are presented with a second chance? I don’t know how to fully read a woman.” It was a bold confession from a man who had a reputation for his prowess with the fairer sex.

“By the mayor – Regina is encouraging her?” Killian leaned back, rolling his head across his shoulders with frustration.

“I don’t know the details,” Victor said, pulling back with his openness. “I need to get back to work.”

“What of David’s feelings though?” Killian asked, his voice almost cracking over the name rather than calling him the prince. “If he does not want her here…”

Victor shrugged, unable to put into words that perhaps David’s feelings are tainted by illness, injury or medication. Perhaps he is still remembering the argument that made her think he had left. Perhaps he never loved her at all. The doctor did not know the answer. “He’s been through a trauma,” he said. “It is not advisable to make life altering decisions in such a state.”

Killian looked back toward the room with the dimmed lights and the man sleeping though he’d just been in a coma. “Maybe he finally woke up.”

***AAA***

The early afternoon rain surprised Emma, as she had been so used to the cold and snow. She dodged a puddle, practically dancing around it as she rushed toward Granny’s to pick up the to go order she had requested and head out toward the well to meet Killian. The rain, while annoying and a bit cold, did bring a freshness to the air that she did enjoy.

Most of the regulars had already left or not yet arrived for lunch when she slid into space. Her eyes scanned the room quickly and found Ruby behind the counter with a scowl on her face and a bar rag in her hand. “I called in an order to your grandmother,” Emma informed her, shivering a bit with the feel of the cool air of the diner and the dampness of her clothing from the steady rain outside.

Ruby nodded, giving her friend a half smile before turning to check the status in the window to the kitchen. “It’ll be another minute,” Ruby advised. She wiped at a spot on the counter where Emma and any reasonable person could see no stain.

“Is everything alright?” Emma asked, resting her chin on her interlaced fingers and her elbows on the counter. “You seem down.”

Ruby gave a quick shrug and tossed the rag into a bin. The shake of her head vibrated the oversized earrings she wore. “I guess I’m coming to grips with the fact that Victor actively sought out the mayor when he knew that could ruin whatever is going on with everyone. I don’t even know the freaking plan you guys have, but I know this. I know that you don’t go and call Regina Mills. She’s the last one you call.”

Emma drew in a breath, her eyes darting downward. “He said he had to do it,” she said. “I tend to believe him.”

Ruby leaned her bottom against the counter, turning her back to the customers and folding her arms over her chest. “I don’t. There is no reason he should have called her. At least he could have given us time. Given Mary Margaret time. Given…I don’t trust him.”

Emma nodded again, understanding a little better. “That’s the point isn’t it?”

A low and sardonic laugh escaped from the waitress. “Yeah,” she admitted. “How can it not be the point? I can’t trust him. I never could, but now I know I can’t.”

***AAA***

Thankfully the rain had passed by the time she got to the well, only a low hanging fog with a slight mist remained and her jacket protected her from that. Killian was waiting for her. His hair was damp and pieces of it clung to the sides of his face as his clothing clung to other areas of his body. Even in her disappointment for Ruby and her current distress over deceiving Belle, she could appreciate the view.

“You must have a plan that includes magic,” he stated firmly, casting a quick glance at the ordinary looking well behind his shoulder.

She stepped past him and placed the white take out bag on the rock edge of the well. Looking down into its depths, she again saw nothing but darkness and wondered again how this all worked. “You didn’t tell Liam,” she said. “You didn’t tell him about my magic.”

“It’s not my secret to share,” he answered, looking a bit confused as to her assumption that he would have told his brother anything about her.

“But…”

“Emma,” he said, a bit more firmly than he meant. “You have said you did not feel comfortable with your magic. You feel even less comfortable with people knowing about it. I cannot understand your feelings, as I don’t have them myself. But if you truly feel that way, I don’t intend to betray the confidences you have placed with me to somehow gain something with my brother. You are quite important to me, more than important. I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with Liam simply because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.” The tiny lines between his eyes and on the bridge of his nose deepened as he frowned.

She stepped back to him, a hand anchoring herself against his chest as she kissed the side of his mouth. “I hate keeping things from people,” she admitted. “It makes me uneasy.”

He watched her study him for a moment, waiting on her to say or confess whatever it was that was in her head at that moment. She said nothing more of it. “Why are we here, Emma?”

She did not want to change the subject completely. “Do you think that good people are always honest?” she asked. “I don’t mean little white lies, but can you still be a good person if you hide something?”

He hesitated, covering her hand on his chest with his own. “I suppose that a key to being a good person is honesty, but I’m not sure that means telling everyone everything. One can be honest while holding information back for the greater good.” Watching her pained expression, he swallowed before continuing. “I suppose this must be so hard for you to keep secrets from your friends and family while they don’t know who they are or where they belong. Is that it, love?”

“It is hard,” she admitted, “but no, that’s not the reason for my question.” She shifted a bit, eyes darting away from his and back again. “Sometimes I feel as though I’m living two lives here. I live the one with you where I can be myself and you know me.” She blushed slightly as he smiled perceptively. “But then there are times where I have to be Emma of Storybrooke. I get to spend time with my mother, but she doesn’t know that’s who she is at all. We’ve built a friendship that is in so many ways closer than what I ever had with my mother.”

“You aren’t lying to her,” he said. “You’re letting her know you as a person instead of you as the princess. That’s a great honor.”

Emma’s fingers toyed with the material of his shirt. “What if that connection I have with her goes away? What if I never…” She swallowed, blinking rapidly. “What if I have to tell her something and she’s disappointed? What if everyone is disappointed in me?”

“Nothing you have done would ever bring disappointment. Nothing. You are braver and stronger than anyone I know. You are taking on this curse and trying to right the wrongs with no map or guidance. That’s a brave thing.” He nodded, training his eyes back on her with curiosity and trepidation. “You can tell me whatever you need to,” he said, hoping that might encourage her a bit. “But if you don’t wish to, I can understand that too. Don’t feel guilty for wanting to protect others.”

She shook her head. “I suppose I’m just worried over nothing,” she answered. “It must be as you said. I must feel guilty.” She pulled her hand out from under his and clenched her fist. “As for why I asked you here, I thought we might try to see if I could work more on my magic. This seems to be the only place it works.”

***AAA***

After school had let out for the day, Mary Margaret crossed in front of the elevators and headed to the stairs and the second floor. The night before had been such a blur. There was the fear of David being missing. The elation of finding him. The comfort of for the first time hearing his voice. The agony of the knowledge that he was married. All of it swirled and vied for attention inside her. Nothing seemed to sit right in her brain, voices, memories, fantasies, and the like played over and over.

She had not told Emma, but she’d even had a fantasy in her head of a wedding with David. She knew it wasn’t real, but it felt genuine. She could smell the flowers and feel the warmth of the sun on her. David had looked at her with such awe and gentleness that his hands seemed to really grip hers as they recited vows before a man who did not seem to be either priest or minister. She could even taste his kiss as though it had actually happened, a tinge of peppermint lingering. But it had to be a fantasy, a glimpse at what her mind had cooked up while reading fairy tales to an unconscious man.

“Miss Blanchard!” the nurse said, quite surprised to see the teacher there on that drizzly Monday afternoon. “I thought you volunteered on Tuesday and Thursday. Or are you here about your roommate? She was down the hall a few minutes ago. I thought…”

Mary Margaret offered a tight smile and waved her hand in a brushing motion. “I left something here last night. A bag. I was hoping you might have it.” She went on to clarify the size and color of the bag itself. The nurse, a young woman with a very formal uniform, gave a reluctant look to what appeared to be a quiet switchboard. Sighing, she disappeared into a side room as Mary Margaret leaned against the counter and waited.

“I told you,” the voice said off to the side. “He won’t even see me. He told me that he thinks I’m lying about the marriage.”

Mary Margaret tried not to look, tried not to become hopeful that it was Katherine speaking. She didn’t have to look though, as Regina’s voice sounded next. “You are married,” Regina said with that firm tone few argued with. “You have to make him realize.”

“And how can I do that? He’s not speaking to me. He keeps saying that he has no reason to want to be with me.”

“You give him a reason.”

**_I’m not going to spoil the next chapter, but I think some of you are really going to like it who like Ruby, Emma, and Mary Margaret together. The three of them are going to get some girl bonding time with Belle._ **


	37. Chapter 37

**_A/N: Thank you for indulging me with my rant last chapter. I love hearing what people think of the story and their guesses for where it is going. However, I don’t ever condone rude private messages about how I have ruined their lives because of a decision I made in a fan fiction story. It is not that serious._ **

**_Thank you all for the positive encouragement, constructive criticism, and comments. I do appreciate each of them._ **

Emma’s eyes shot wide when she saw her mother in the hallway at the hospital, surprise ricocheting off of her. There were not that many ways out of the small town hospital, leaving Emma with the conundrum since Mary Margaret stood where the four hallways of the upper level converged. To her right were the elevators and to her left the door to the stairs.

“Is there anything else you needed?” a petite, young nurse asked, holding a cup in one hand and tiny container with a single pill in the other. “I can call in Dr. Whale, but he’s been a little preoccupied.”

“No, that’s fine,” Emma said. “I was just trying to remember where I was going.” She bit her lip, realizing she sounded quite ditzy. “I should have written it down.”

The nursed nodded, already losing interest and catching herself staring toward her next patient. “Understandable. Let me know if you need anything.”

Emma stood a moment longer, observing the way that her mother leaned almost imperceptibly in one direction and tried hard to pretend she was not listening to something. She seemed as poised and at the ready as a doe grazing the meadow, ears alert and eyes trying to cast doubt. Whatever she was watching and listening to must have moved away, as even from Emma’s position down the hall she could see the teacher’s shoulders drop in relief and then the tension re-enter her body.

That was when Emma realized why her mother had been so tense. Regina walked in front of her. Raven haired and statuesque, Regina said something to her step-daughter and walked away with a smug smile tugging at her lips and Katherine right behind her. So much for hiding from Mary Margaret, Emma thought painfully as she walked ahead and came upon the teacher.

“I saw the mayor,” Emma said. “Is everything…”

“I’m fine,” Mary Margaret almost snapped, then looked at her hands guiltily. “I promise you. I’m fine.”

In a way that said she did not believe her but that she would let it pass, Emma held her arm up bent at the elbow and smiled. “I could escort you some place,” she said. She had done that as a child, mimicked her father’s way of taking her mother about the castle gardens. Snow had always responded with a smile, curling her arm through the crook of David’s elbow and leaning her head of his shoulder as he placed his free hand over hers. As Emma grew she had wanted to do that too. Mary Margaret instinctively did the same in a congenial way.

“I left a bag here last night,” she explained, willing herself not to look toward David’s room. “I was waiting…” The nurse rounded the corner with the bag and passed it to her. “Never mind. I’m not waiting now.”

***AAA***

Graham’s eyes still appeared glassy and unfocused when Emma entered the sheriff’s station. His shoulders slumped forward and his head lolled to the side as he stared without comprehension at the computer screen in front of him.

“You were in that same position when I left,” Emma said. “I thought you might try to sleep.”

Graham told her that he had been waiting for her to return, his face still drawn and tired, but now mixed with a little excitement. His eyes met hers as she removed her jacket. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, assuming that he was angry she had taken too long on her break. “I got tied up.”

He flashed her a quick smile, reaching into a pile of documents and pulling out a brown envelope with metal clasps keeping it closed. Holding it against his chest, he sighed. “Regina came by today,” he said, his voice hitching on her name, as he usually referred to her by her mayoral title rather than in any familiar way. “She did not give me this of course, but it reminded me that I had promised my assistance on the matter.”

Emma nodded, wanting to tell him that she had made the round and was obviously busy. She stayed silent. Her eyes stayed on the brown envelope.

With a shaking hand, he held it out to her. “I found something on the adoption of the child,” he said, leaning his own head to the side to try to look her in the eyes. “You can read it here, but it seems that our very own Mr. Gold arranged the whole thing.”

Her head snapped up. “Why would he do that?”

“I would hate to speculate,” Graham returned. “All the information I could find is in there. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I am going to say it. I don’t know who this child is or how you seem to have a connection, but Regina is not a woman you want to go up against ill-prepared. She’s ruthless and determined.”

Emma nodded, staring at the envelope now in her hands as if she could see through the paper. “I’m sure she is. It’s just that I don’t want to see an innocent child suffer because of her.” She pursed her lips in a small frown and flipped the envelope over.

“Whatever the grievance, Regina is a good mother to the baby,” he said, his hand nervously stroking at his chin and jaw. “Better than his biological parents who gave him away.”

Emma’s face flushed with anger. “I don’t think you know enough to say that,” she declared. “What if there were…”

“Extenuating circumstances? Yes, I know there could be. There most often are in these cases. But the fact remains that they were unwilling or unable to raise a child they brought into this world. Regina has stepped up to do so. Think what you will of her, but she deserves credit there.”

The flash of anger from Emma became slow burning, her eyes fiercely regarding him. “Even if Mr. Gold did something in this? Even if it isn’t completely legal?”

He shrugged, giving the impression that he was already bored with the conversation. “I think you’ll find that it is legal. Read the file, Emma,” he said. “I’m going to go check on Belle.”

Emma gave him a half nod and sat at her desk slowly, hands trembling as she opened the envelope and began to read. It wasn’t detailed or thorough, including a few case notes from a social worker, Regina’s application, a letter from Mr. Gold, and a few forms. However, Emma quickly pieced together that the boy had been found by the side of the road and declared by the courts to be abandoned. It did not answer the questions she had of how Mr. Gold knew this was a child with connections to Storybrooke or how he had managed to cross town lines to make sure the details were complete.

She was flipping back to the first page to read again when she heard Graham’s heavy steps and unsteady voice. “Emma, we’ve got a problem,” he said. “Belle’s gone.”

***AAA***

Ruby ran a long finger down the receipt scroll, her foot tapping impatiently as her grandmother stared over her shoulder. “I just don’t see it,” she said, dropping the roll of white paper down on the counter. “It’s 42 cents. Are you really going to make me stay here over 42 cents?”

The older woman adjusted her glasses carefully, eyes sharply focused over the rims at her much taller granddaughter. “It starts with just 42 cents. You have to account for every penny. Don’t forget those pennies make dollars.” Granny reached forward and tore a page off of the ledger pad. “Try again.”

Ruby frowned, reaching her hand into her apron pocket and pulling out a quarter, three nickels and two pennies. “Call it balanced,” she declared, backing away from the register. “I need a night off.”

The woman called out to her only to receive a blunt wave as the door fell closed behind her. Ruby was clearly in one of her moods, a state that meant bookkeeping and work were not going to satisfy her need for something more. The few customers still left looked after her, shrinking their gazes away from Granny who wore a frown larger than they had seen. Fights between the two women were not unheard of, as some of them had even been epic. Ruby would storm off after each one, usually winding up at the Rabbit Hole or some other place to blow off steam. She’d return the next day with a guilty glint in her eyes and a display of remorse such as taking out the trash or carrying a heavy box inside.

“She’s quite frightening when agitated,” Liam noted from his spot across from Killian. “Quite.”

He hesitated to tell his brother of the woman’s identity in the Mist Haven, as that would only serve to taint his brother’s impression all the more. “Most women are quite frightening when crossed,” he agreed. “I’d estimate that her anger is more directed at Dr. Whale than at her grandmother.”

“Either way, the lass could stop a man cold with those eyes. There were flames coming from them.” The older brother settled back against his chair, folding his arms as he looked over at his brother’s distracted stare. “Are we going to discuss what’s going on with you?”

Killian appeared startled, shifting to balance himself in his own chair. “I am not sure what you mean, brother?”

Liam sipped at the drink in front of him and seemed to study Killian carefully. “You went to meet Emma before you came back here. Now you’re flustered and not in the normal way. What is the matter?”

Killian shrugged his shoulders and did his best impression of man who had no idea what the issue could be that his brother was talking about. “I’m…”

He did not finish the sentence as Emma’s form came into view with hair flying behind her and an animated wave of her hands as she approached Granny. She was clearly on some sort of mission and not faring to well from the agitated sound of her voice as she demanded Ruby’s whereabouts and slammed a hand against the counter.

Killian jumped to his feet and rushed to her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder that she shook off quickly. “Love, what seems to be bothering you?”

Emma pivoted in his direction, Granny having already departed with mumbled words about not being anyone’s keeper. Nostrils flaring and her eyes flashing with anger she practically hissed. “Belle is missing.”

Killian’s own expression changed to one of surprise and then panic as he looked around to see if anyone might have overheard the woman’s name. “What do you…”

“What do I mean?” Emma asked rhetorically, again with her hands moving expressively. “I don’t know what I could mean. She is gone. She took off while Graham was taking a nap, drinking or having a dalliance with Regina. It doesn’t matter why. It matters that she is gone. I need help from Mr. Gold now more than ever and she’s gone. My ticket to him…”

Liam was now next to both of them, motioning for her to lower her voice. “Milady, we shall find her, but you can’t come bursting in and give anything away. Now how long has she been missing?”

***AAA***

Ruby left the pharmacy with a package of cookies and a bag of chips in her bag, as well as a dusty bottle of margarita mix that she had found behind several other items on a shelf. Tom had trouble even finding a price for the item, but she had insisted that she needed it after she called Mary Margaret to confirm there was a bottle of tequila at the loft.

“Of course,” Mary Margaret had said when Ruby had begged not only for a drink but a place to crash for the night. Normally she would have gone to see Victor, but that seemed a bad idea at the moment.

She was mentally making a list of all the things she could and would tell her grandmother, Victor, and anyone else who happened to make her angry when she heard something in the space between two buildings. Ruby was nothing if not naturally curious and followed the sound until she found a huddled up and barefoot Belle sitting on the cold concrete.

“What are you doing?” Ruby asked, switching her bag to her other arm so she could pull the young woman to her feet. “It’s not safe for you to be out here.”

The woman, who despite the fact that she was no longer on the sedating medication, looked relatively calm as she brushed herself off. “I needed to see him. Emma said that I know him…”

Ruby considered that information for a mom. “Mr. Gold? You know Mr. Gold? Everyone knows Mr. Gold. He owns everything in this town.”

Belle looked over the tall waitress’s shoulder toward the pawn shop, squinting to see through the shaded windows. “I just thought if I saw him that maybe…”

Ruby hesitated. “We could go in if you like? I could go with you.”

Belle looked fearful as she shook her head no. “I’ll go back. I just wanted…”

Ruby tilted her head to the side and finally let a smile break out across her painted lips. “You know. I’m on my way to Mary Margaret’s place. Emma lives there too. Why don’t you join us? It’s just us girls tonight. I’m sure that Emma is wondering where you are at.”

Belle nodded reluctantly. “Who is Mary Margaret?”

***AAA***

Emma’s frantic mood did not lessen as she ran up the stairs into the loft, leaving her keys in the door that began to shut on Liam’s foot and caused him to call out a string of words that were not so good for mixed company. She shot him a look of apology and annoyance before she skidded to a stop in front of her mother, Ruby and Belle.

“I was coming to get Ruby’s telephone number that would allow me to call her,” Emma hurriedly explained with full knowledge she was probably saying the wrong terms for the phone. “But you’re here and so is Belle.” She was out of breath and her blonde hair spilled forward as she stared with doubt that everything was in fact fine.

Belle had the decency to seem embarrassed, her skin a bit pink as Ruby held her hand in front of her like a mother slamming on the brakes does with a child. “I found our friend, Belle, outside of Gold’s Pawn Shop. I thought it might be a good idea to get her out of sight for a while.” Ruby’s head bounced a bit with pride for her quick thinking. “Why did you need my number? You don’t even have a phone. Does anyone else think it’s weird she doesn’t have a phone?”

Mary Margaret looked remarkably motherly as she pulled the empty and still damp glass out of Ruby’s hand and shook her head. “You’ve had enough, Ruby,” she said gently. “And Emma, I don’t know why you are panicking, but everyone’s fine. See!” She stood up from her chair, spun in a small circle, and then grinned.

Killian, who had been checking the parking lot to see if Ruby or Mary Margaret’s horseless carriages were parked there, burst in through the door, panting just as heavily as Liam and Emma. He shot his brother a terse and quick look to ask what was going on and what he had missed. To which Liam looked just as confused and rubbed his hand down the side of his face.

“Belle’s fine,” Emma said, sounding as a teenager after her privileges have been taken away. She swept her arms grandly in the direction of the woman sitting next to Ruby. “She’s been here. And according to Ruby, she was in from of Mr. Gold’s shop this afternoon.”

Killian’s blue eyes flashed in alarm, taking a step forward and then back into his original stance as he realized he had no reason to do that. “Ruby found her?” he concluded, remembering that Mary Margaret would not have recognized the girl.

Ruby appeared bored with the conversation and rolled her eyes dramatically as she cursed the love seat’s low cushion for not allowing her to stand easily. “Ruby found her,” she announced in third person. “Belle is fine. Why are we referring to people like they aren’t even here? Everything is fine. Now Emma, send the boys home and we’ll have girls’ night. Mary Margaret has tequila.” She placed a fist on each hip and smiled. “I made margaritas, but your roommate only had tumblers. Are they still margaritas in tumblers?”

Emma collapsed onto the barstool that her mother used for convenience in the kitchen, her bag with the book of fairy tales falling to the floor. “I was actually worried about Belle,” Emma pouted, unsure who to yell at in the situation. There was a drunk Ruby, a bewildered Mary Margaret, and Belle who was not completely sure why the fuss was so much over her walk to Mr. Gold’s.

Following Mary Margaret to the sink Ruby again asked her question about whether or not margaritas were the same in tumbler as they were in an appropriate glass. The teacher tried to explain that it was the portions of alcohol and mix that mattered, not the glass.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Ruby said defiantly. “I think it tasted different. Try it and see.”

Emma shook her head and gave up on the two women arguing over the quality of the margaritas versus their serving vessels. Looking both relieved and tired she walked slowly and clumsily toward the two brothers, nodding at them both as they moved toward the door. “Sorry about the panicked and apparently false alarm,” she said, her nose wiggling in her embarrassed apology. “I suppose I should speak to Belle about the dangers of running off like this.”

Killian sighed heavily, peering over Emma’s shoulder at the dark haired woman staring idly at the colorful television screen. “Aye, we have come too far to let someone clumsily reveal our hand to the man. Perhaps we are being foolish to wait so long. It might be prudent to act sooner.”

Liam clasped his brother’s shoulder with his hand and squeezed. “Later, brother,” he said. “We shouldn’t discuss these matters here. Let’s go and leave Emma to her inebriated friends.”

Emma walked them the rest of the way to the door, giving Liam a goodbye nod and Killian a chaste peck on the cheek as they left. Ruby loudly told her she could have given more. Staring at the closed door with a look of regret, Emma turned and faced the three women. “What is the occasion?” she asked. “Birthday? Holiday? Something to celebrate.”

“Independence day,” Ruby announced gleefully, which earned a laugh from Mary Margaret. Emma, who was not familiar with the American holiday only looked bewildered. “I am officially telling Granny that I quit. I’m telling Victor to shove his stethoscope where the sun don’t shine.” With no glass provided by Mary Margaret, Ruby turned up the plastic pitcher and drained the rest of the greenish drink with a two gulps.

“I see,” Emma said, carefully choosing her words. “And Mary Margaret.”

The teacher shrugged, pulling out her folding step stool to climb up to look behind some items in the cupboards. Her hands skimmed over the bottles and bags until she victoriously returned with a half-eaten bag of marshmallows. Smiling triumphantly, she shrugged her shoulders again when nobody cheered. “Fine, you want to know what I’m celebrating. I’m celebrating the end of a classroom unit with no students failing. That’s my celebration.”

Ruby swirled the almost empty bottle of tequila with gusto. “You’re not celebrating,” she chastised. “You’re binge eating. You have to drink to celebrate and you wouldn’t drink any margaritas or whatever they are in the tumblers.”

Indignantly, Mary Margaret jutted out a hip. “I’m just not a fan of tequila. When I drink, I drink wine.”

“You’re the one who bought the tequila!” Ruby challenged, speaking louder than necessary with the four women and a lowly droning television as the only sounds.

“A long time ago,” the short haired woman said. “That’s why there was dust on the bottle and it was under my sink next to the cleaning supplies.”

Emma pivoted again and took Ruby’s seat on the love seat next to Belle. “You did have me worried,” she said. “But I’m glad you’re here now.”

The woman chewed her bottom lip as she looked nervously at her own tumbler. No more than a sip or two was gone from the drink. “Would you like this? I do have to agree with the other woman that this is a vile concoction.”

“No,” Emma said, nudging Belle with her shoulder. “Just don’t let Ruby get it. I don’t think she can take more of it.”

**_Note: This is not the end of girl’s night. I just know the battery is about to go on my computer and I wanted to get this posted. Thanks for your thoughts and reviews!_ **


	38. Chapter 38

**_A/N: Sorry this took so long. I have been attending a film festival with a friend and didn’t have much time for writing. However, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I think it might answer a question I keep getting._ **

It was the fourth time that the annoying music had played, drums and thumping in Mary Margaret’s ears and two women trying to do a dance from the 1990s that looked a bit like the activities in kindergarten. Ruby was sure that the dance moves to the Macarena included a kick step somewhere in the not so intricate patterns of hand gestures. She had decided that Emma just had to learn the dance that was somehow a part of her repertoire though where she had picked it up she didn’t know. The waitress spun a bit too much, throwing her long arms out for balance and yelling whoa as Emma stepped in to brace her.

“That looks more like the hokey pokey,” Mary Margaret commentated from her spot on the loveseat with Belle. The two women might not have known each other before – at least according to their cursed memories and Emma’s recollection of having never me the woman in the Enchanted Forest. But they were getting along famously as they laughed over some sort of magazine with crazy quizzes for every occasion. From what was their most likely occupation to what side of the bed did their soulmates sleep on, the two had plowed through it and announced their results with loud gusto. Admittedly Emma and Ruby weren’t exactly paying attention.

“I thought we were going to watch movies,” Emma mentioned to her pseudo-dance teacher. “Just a quiet respite from our lives?”

Ruby wrinkled her nose, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “Don’t trust Mary Margaret’s taste in movies. It’s Nicholas Sparks or animated. There is no in between.” The teacher protested loudly as Ruby waved her off. “Intentions don’t count when I’m watching another angst filled love scene before a main character dies and we all curl up with tissues, a blanket and our thumbs in our mouths.”

“I’m not that bad,” Emma’s mother declared from behind the magazine. “Tell her, Emma.”

Ruby was back to fired up. “We need to look no farther than Ms. Blanchard’s bedside table to see the evidence.” Strolling through the open area of the loft space, Ruby grabbed what she needed and returned. “For your consideration,” she said, posing with a dog eared copy of a book as if she was a game show model. “We have a copy of, ‘The Notebook.’” She threw the book down. “A box of tissues.” She held up the box and dropped it too. Emma stepped in to steer Ruby away from her current argument and distract her with a few more musical selections.

Belle held the wine glass more elegantly than an escaped mental patient should, at least that was what Mary Margaret thought as the two toasted to their new bond over laughing at Ruby and silly surveys. Some of the laughs were directed at Emma, who while elegant, appeared completely lost at the silly dance moves. “Is it elbows and then shoulders or shoulders and then elbows?” Emma asked, carefully backing away from a more stable but still teetering Ruby.

“What exactly is a girls night in?” Belle asked with a tentative softness and trepidation. “I suppose it means the girls doing something together inside.”

Ruby was ignoring the inquiry, lifting her drink high above her shoulder and grinning at Emma. “To finding lost people!”

“That’s a toast?” Emma scoffed, but still lifted her tumbler and tilted it gently to her lips. If Ruby had been sober, she might have noticed that the blonde’s lips remained closed. However, she let out a loud whoop and continued her parade through bad dances.

Mary Margaret was more observant. “Are you not a fan of tequila?” she asked Emma as she sidled up next to her and retrieved the package of cookies. Emma shot her a look. “Hey! I’m not the one pouring my drink back into the pitcher. I saw you.”

“The taste doesn’t agree with me,” Emma said, glancing to see if Ruby heard her. “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

The teacher giggled at that thought. “I don’t think she’s feeling any pain.”

***AAA***

There was nobody on the street when the mayor of the town of Storybrooke pushed the stroller with the sleeping infant toward the pawn shop that appeared to be dark and shuttered for the evening. She was moving quickly, not bothering to appreciate the sleeping town that she ran or the quietness that would have soothed most after a tough week. She did not have to wait long at the door of the shop, instead the owner seemed to be waiting for her and ushered her in with a quick look to the deserted street to see if anyone was lurking.

“I don’t usually entertain visitors so late,” Mr. Gold stated with a small smirk. “I’m afraid I have brewed no coffee or tea to offer you.”

She was not in the playful mood that his words required. “What is she doing here? Emma should not be here yet.”

The man’s grin grew a bit wider, as he was the type to enjoy someone else’s distress. “This is the reason for your clandestine visit to me?” he asked. “I am shocked and disappointed. I thought we might have some new material to discuss.”

Regina glanced down at the peacefully sleeping child and tried to calm herself. “What does she know? She’s been snooping. I know that.”

He did not acknowledge her question at first, gazing at her intently. “Your mother,” he said. “She was such an intense student. She wanted everything right away. There was no following a process for her. She merely wanted it all and wanted it right then. Conversely you were more reluctant. Oh, you wanted to learn magic, but you also hated yourself a little more with each new skill and talent.”

The woman let out a frustrated sigh. “I came here for answers and you’re giving me a history lesson?” she almost shouted if not for the baby. “How does this have anything to do with Emma? We don’t even have magic here in Storybrooke.”

His hands clenched and released automatically, eyes still intensely studying her. She still wore the pants and blouse of her pantsuit, the jacket left behind in her haste for answers. He still wore the dark grey suit that seemed tailored to him, impeccable despite the late hour when most would be much more casual. However, the image of him relaxing in front of a television or dozing after a snack seemed out of place. “We don’t have magic,” he confirmed. “It’s a terrible void really. One that I had anticipated. However, magic always exists. It might be dormant or sleeping, but it’s there. Sometimes in unexpected places.”

Headlights from a passing car pierced the dimly lit room and Regina resisted the urge to cower from them. “So why are we discussing magic?”

The unflappable man smiled again. “My dear magic was ripped from those of us brought over in the dark curse. That curse removed everything that made us unique and special. It took away more than memories and happy endings. It took away identities. And magic was linked with our identity. It always is. For a person who has a gift of magic can never expect to live an ordinary life of say a princess or queen of some far off kingdom as her parents are swept into a new realm.”

Regina’s dark eyes closed and her hands gripped the padded stroller handles for both comfort and support. “What are you telling me?”

“She still has hers,” the man said. “Emma is still magical. She has not completely embraced or honed her skills, but she has them. They are a part of her.”

There was no hiding the shock on Regina’s face. “How do you know?”

The impish man gave a shrug. “She’s meant to break the curse,” he reminded her. “It’s her destiny. Nothing is forever, my dear.”

“Not until she’s 28,” Regina protested with the pitch of a whine. “She’s only 24.”

“As I said, time is a funny thing. It is nothing that really exists, as we make it up to make order and sense out of our lives. Why do you think we all look as we do here?”

Regina hated to be confused and hated other people’s knowledge even more. She frowned angrily at the man. “Tell me,” she seethed.

“You cast the curse, dearie,” he said. “We all appear as you picture us. Snow, Charming, Red, the Huntsman, even those insipid little dwarfs. Everyone’s identity here is your mind’s eye turned into a new reality.”

“And Emma…”

“Is going to destroy it all,” he answered in an emotionally flat tone. “She may be here early, but she’s here. And I don’t see how you can stop her when it is destiny that she complete this.”

“There has to be a way,” Regina insisted, her nostrils flared and her eyes widened. “You know, don’t you?”

He circled around to the other side of the counter, now putting a barrier between them. “Her magic, like most, is derived from emotion,” he said, voice lifting on the last word. “If one were to, say, isolate her so that she had no emotional tethers, it might be reduced or even go dormant. It’s not a permanent solution, but a temporary fix. She’ll still break the curse. It would just buy you more time.”

***AAA***

The loft was quieter once Ruby had decided that dancing was not as much fun when the room spun and her stomach lurched. At some point she had laid out on the floor with a throw pillow under her head and an arm folded over her eyes. As the conversation normally flowed, she was talking to Mary Margaret and Emma about men.

“I know he’s not the only man in Storybrooke,” she said declaratively. “He’s not even the best looking man. It’s just that he…”

Mary Margaret shifted in her seat to rest her arm on the back of the chair and her head at the crook of her elbow. Belle had already drifted off and from the heavy lidded expression of Emma next to her, she knew the blonde wasn’t far behind.

“He made me forget that I’m just a waitress or that I’ve never even been out of this place. I’m stuck and he was a distraction.”

“There are other distractions,” the teacher suggested gently. “I know that I…”

Ruby rolled to her side, groaning a bit at the fast movement. Propping herself up on a bent arm, she looked disdainfully at the woman. “It’s different for you,” she said. “Sure you live like a nun now, but there’s a guy for you. You’ll get married. Have babies. And you’ll get what you want. I don’t want that. I want more. I want to have adventures that don’t include wondering how much someone’s going to tip or having to battle with Granny over how late I’m out.”

Mary Margaret cooed sympathetically. “You’ll have them Ruby.”

“Sure, and you’ll get your perfect guy. You seem to have gotten David’s attention.”

“He’s a married man,” Mary Margaret protested. “And I was just…”

Ruby chuckled. “He isn’t married for long,” she said. “At least that is the rumor. Seems he told that Katherine he’s done.” She smirked brightly. “And I hear he may have asked how to get in touch with you.”

Mary Margaret blushed. The tall waitress looked upward dramatically. “What about you, Emma?” she asked, straining her head back to look at the quiet woman. “Are you looking to settle down like Mary Margaret or you an adventurous type too?”

Emma blinked as though she might not have heard the question. “I suppose,” she said slowly, carefully choosing her words. “I suppose I would like both. Why should we have to choose?”

Ruby looked pacified, but Mary Margaret grinned knowingly. “With Killian?”

Emma dropped her gaze to the faded rug on the floor, her toes digging into the softness. “I suppose,” she said quietly. “I can’t picture anyone else.”

“That’s the curse of this town talking,” Ruby sighed dramatically. “So few options.” She wrinkled her nose.

Mary Margaret gave a gentle kick to Ruby, shushing her. “Emma doesn’t need options if she’s found the one for her, which I think she has.” She turned her face back to the blonde. “I think it’s romantic. We need more of that in this town. We need romance.”

Again the waitress wrinkled her nose. “I don’t need to know about that. I want to know the fun stuff.”

“The fun stuff?” Emma asked, wide eyed. “What would that include?”

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. “Ignore her. She’s drunk. Tell me more. When did you know? I mean when did you know he was the one?”

Ruby groaned loudly and rolled onto her back again. “I want to know where is the kinkiest place they’ve done it and you want the mushy stuff. Typical.”

Emma blushed, not used to the boldness of her mother’s friend in that way. “I don’t suppose there is one moment,” she said to her mother shyly. “Perhaps when I first heard him say my name.” She smiled at the memory of it, the shy and timid way he had dropped her title at her request. She knew that he had been reluctant, relying on propriety, but he had said her name at her request. It was the moment she realized he was something more than her guard and chaperone.

Mary Margaret’s smile was wide. “That’s so sweet,” she cooed again, her foot at the ready to kick Ruby if need be. “Do you love him? I mean truly?”

Emma again blinked, her face pink and glowing. She had not pictured having a conversation like this with her mother, but it felt normal in a way. “Yes,” Emma answered honestly. “I am.”

***AAA***

Killian had actually managed more than a few hours of sleep, something he felt he should be celebrating. However, his brother had other ideas. Liam had been up since before dawn and pacing. He’d eaten breakfast as soon as the diner opened and returned to pacing outside Killian’s door until the younger Jones had finally thrown open the door with an angry scowl.

“What has gotten into you?”

“I have an idea,” Liam announced dramatically. “It’s perfect.”

A yawn broke Killian’s silent stare. “Can it wait for breakfast?”

The impatience on the older brother’s face was almost laughable. “I’ve eaten. You would have never been such a laze about on my ship. Why are you this way now?”

Again, the younger Jones brother yawned. “This place is different, brother,” he said, running a hand over his face. “It is customary here to appreciate the quiet moments. Now if you will give me a moment I shall make myself presentable for breakfast and we can discuss this idea of yours then.”

“I should think you would want to hear this now,” Liam said with a pout that was usually reserved for the younger brother. “I have thought…”

Killian held up his hand. “No ideas before breakfast,” he said. His body leaned against the frame of the door and his other hand held the doorknob. “It can wait that short amount of time.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Liam looked to the room beyond Killian’s shoulder. “She came back last night? Is that why you are so reluctant?”

Killian raised his brow in confusion. “She? You mean Emma?”

“Of course,” Liam said irritably. “I know of no other woman who would be having a dalliance in your quarters. Is she here now? Is this…” He smirked. “Why are you so tired?”

Killian frowned. “No,” he said. “You were with me when we left her at the loft. “She is not here.” The lieutenant shot a look back into the room at the bed with a bit of regret that he was not lying.

Liam laughed. “You know, brother, I may not relish the idea of the crown finding out about your feelings for the princess, but it is entertaining to watch. My brother in love with a princess. It has made you soft.”

He scoffed at the idea. “I am not soft,” he challenged. “You are simply…”

“Now, now,” Liam laughed again. “I meant nothing by it. Just enjoying the idea that my brother might someday have people bow to him as royalty.”

***AAA***

Ruby stumbled over a pair of shoes that she did not recognize and plunged for the loft’s only bathroom, hoping it was a short trip and not occupied. She was in luck and sank to her knees to empty the contents of her stomach just in time. Resting her head on her hand, she vowed never to drink so much again, no matter her emotional state.

“Do you need some water?” she heard a voice ask her. “A cracker, perhaps?”

Ruby reluctantly turned her head to the bright and pulsating light that silhouetted Emma in the doorway. She grimaced as the light pierced her and made her wish she was still asleep. “Tequila is not my friend.”

“I should think not,” Emma said, crossing the tile floor to kneel down next to her. She soothed back the hair that was across Ruby’s forehead. “It is few people’s friend.”

Ruby nodded gently and groaned when that movement. “What are you doing up?” she asked, realizing that from the silence of the loft that they were the only two stirring. “Shouldn’t you be in this position too? You drank as much as I did.”

Emma smiled gently and did not correct the assumption. “I have to get to my job,” she explained. “Are you sure you don’t want a cracker? They do help.” She dug into the bag she had dropped when she knelt and pulled out a sleeve of saltines.

Reaching out to pluck one of the crackers, Ruby looked at her curiously. “Do you normally carry such items in your bag? That many hangovers?”

Emma laughed at the image. “No,” she said, handing her the rest of the package. “You keep these and I’ll get you a glass of water.” She stood and patted the other woman’s shoulder.

Ruby scooted herself to rest her back against the bathtub, relishing the coolness through her shirt. Knees pulled up under her chin, she wondered if anyone would mind if she slept in the tiny room. Her head ached miserably and her stomach churned as she bit into the bland cracker. She would have to thank Emma for her attention, she thought. The woman was understanding, more so than any of her other friends.

Ruby let her head come to be cradled between her knees, hugging her arms around her legs. She looked around the bright room with the cheerful daisies on the counter and pencil sketches framed on the walls. Even the black and white tiles were arranged in a soothing pattern that would not upset someone with OCD. There was a flash of yellow that caught her eye in the form of a folded slip of paper just beside the closed tote that Emma had left in her quest for water.

Granny had always warned her that curiosity rarely brought good results. If something was a secret, it was rightly so. One did not need to know everything to be happy. But Ruby was curious. Unfolding herself, she trailed her fingers along the tiled floor and dragged the paper back to her with her index finger. Sighing, she peeled back the edges and straightened out the thin yellow form. Her eyes scanned it and saw boxes checked and numbers scribbled, recognizing it as a bill from the hospital. At the bottom in Victor’s handwriting was the diagnosis.

“Emma’s pregnant?” Ruby asked the room.


	39. Chapter 39

**_A/N: I’m glad I could shock a few of you in the last chapter. Reading the responses has been kind of fun._ ** **_J As for telling Killian, that will be coming next chapter. Give Emma break. She just found out, lost Belle, celebrated with the girls, and is now trying to work up a way to tell him. It’ll be fine. She’s not hiding anything._ **

There was nothing amusing about the state that Ruby found herself in, but Emma knew it was simply payback for the large quantities of tequila that the woman had consumed. She had looked pale and shaky, her eyes bloodshot and unfocused. Even her sensibilities seemed off, claiming that she did not want to wake Mary Margaret when the teacher was already up and gone for the day. Emma padded her way into the kitchen past the empty bed where her mother had already vacated and a sleeping Belle on an air mattress – which Emma had never heard of - looking remarkably peaceful despite the events of the past few days. She quietly grabbed one of the glasses that she had washed the night before and began to fill it with water, resisting the urge to add ice like she had been taught to do at the diner. It was one of those remarkable things about the new realm she found herself in, frozen water in glasses to make a drink colder. Ice was something she had only seen in the winter or in one of the trips she had taken with her family to more frigid climates. However, this was an attempt to settle Ruby’s stomach and according to her appointment the day before room temperature was better than cold for that.

There was a slight blush rising on Emma’s cheeks as she remembered yet again the reason for her visit to the hospital the day before. She had felt odd for more than a week, her stomach churning at irregular intervals, an odd sensation of fatigue and lightheadedness, and strangest of all she suddenly cringed at the smell of coffee that used to bring her so much joy. At first she had attributed it to the pressures of her life in Storybrooke, but as it continued she remembered the hushed conversations among the palace staff about women who were expecting.

Emma knew deep down at that point that she was in fact carrying a child, the realization of coming together with Killian flashing in her mind without hesitation. She supposed that despite her lack of intention, it was a quite predictable occurrence. She had even attempted to speak to him about it at the well, but felt quite reluctant until she was certain. So pushing aside her trepidation over whatever a pregnancy test might entail in Storybrooke, she had planned a clandestine appointment for that afternoon and snuck away.

To say it was an overwhelming experience would be an understatement. There were few such things in the Enchanted Forests. A woman did not receive that level of attention or care in the early stages, sometimes only seeing the midwife for the first time upon the baby’s arrival. As a royal she would have received a little bit better care, but still it was a different world for the princess. She’d received a bag of pamphlets and information that she had read waiting to be released. There were so many rules to follow, so many suggestions and mandates that Emma was sure she’d never keep them all straight.

The surprise at seeing Mary Margaret there at the hospital just moments after learning the news was confirmed had been a jolt to Emma. Though the brunette had no memory of being Emma’s mother, she still garnered that respect. And Emma felt very nervous that she would somehow disappoint her mother with the news that she was expecting a child with not a prince but a naval lieutenant to whom she was not even betrothed. She tried to shake off that feeling, knowing that Mary Margaret would be happy for her in contrast to the critical gaze that Snow White might cast.

Walking back toward the bathroom, Emma vowed again as she looked toward her mother’s empty bed that she would somehow find a way to right all the wrongs of the curse. She had to now more than ever. She did not want her child to grow up without grandparents who would surely love and adore him or her once the initial shock wore off. It was Ruby’s voice that interrupted her determined declaration.

“Ruby, what do you have there?” Emma stood in that doorway from the bedroom to the bathroom with a glass of water in her extended hand. She looked at Ruby with a horrified expression of someone who had just been found guilty of some crime. The water in the glass sloshed as she shook, splashing droplets on the tile.

Ruby looked up at her with red rimmed eyes, a look of question on her face that was quickly replaced by guilt. “I didn’t mean to…oh well…I was curious what the paper said and then I read it and…” She pushed her hair out of her eyes and folded the paper back into its smaller square. “This is great news…a baby. Aren’t you happy?”

Emma placed the glass on the counter and closed her eyes as if not seeing the woman on the floor would somehow change the fact that someone knew her secret. “Yes, but Ruby…”

The brunette closed her eyes and leaned her head against the coolness of the tub. “I get it. You want to tell him first.” Her eyes flew open again, suspicion evident. “It is his right? Oh God! I’m sorry. That was wrong of me.”

Emma was taken aback with the idea, but lowered herself back down to the floor next to Ruby. “I haven’t said anything yet to Killian, but I will. I only learned of this yesterday though I was beginning to suspect. I asked Dr. Whale of my ailments and he suggested a test.” She shook her head with thoughts of how it worked in this realm, so different than the way it had in the Enchanted Forest.

“He’s going to be happy. No doubt about that.”

Emma wanted to ask her how she knew that when there was nothing in her mind but doubt and uncertainty. Yes, Emma thought as the best friend in her mother’s life sat curled at her side, Killian would undoubtedly say and do the right things. There was little doubt that he would love her and this child of theirs with his whole heart. Though he might be a little fearful of her parents reaction when or if the curse was lifted and the memories returned, Emma had few doubts that he would face that head on. This realm was far more lenient and understanding of such transgressions than things had been in the Enchanted Forest. Perhaps, she considered, it would be okay to simply smile and appreciate the new change in her life.

Ruby shifted a bit, he head hitting Emma’s shoulder. “I’m happy for you. Happy for you both.” Her words were a little weak, as she let her eyes drift closed.

“You sound quite ecstatic, Ruby,” Emma teased. “Perhaps we should get you back so you can sleep.”

***AAA***

Graham nodded politely to Granny as she slid his change back to him and then scurried off to the next customer. She was clearly missing the help that her granddaughter provided, but as stubborn as she was, there was little chance of her admitting to it. Emma had already called him and said that she felt it better to keep that Belle woman at Mary Margaret’s loft with Ruby sitting with her that day. The sheriff admitted that was quite a better idea than bringing her out in broad daylight and risk Regina’s suspicion even more.

It was only a matter of time before the mayor would discover the woman was missing, but Graham hoped that Emma could execute her plan soon and avoid the wrath of that indiscretion. His stomach sank as he thought of how hopeful his blonde assistant was that Belle was the key to whatever was keeping her from returning home. He did not even know what or where her home was, but he had seen enough of Emma to know that he wanted her to achieve that goal.

Turning with the logo printed bag in his hand, Graham realized that Emma’s friend, Killian was sitting at the table by the door. The man had yet to see him, which Graham thought was a good excuse as any to slip out the door. He might have referred to the dark haired man as Emma’s friend, but history and experience had shown him that they were quite a bit more than just friends. It did not stop it from hurting to know that she would never view him in the same way.

He might have made it out of the diner without notice had Granny not called to him that his he had left his coffee on the counter. Killian’s head immediately jerked up from his plate as the man’s name was called, his eyes immediately focusing on the sheriff.

“Good morning,” he said rather reluctantly.

Graham drew in a breath, looking first at Killian and then back at Granny who was holding out the drink holder. He went with the more intimidating of the two options and retrieved the drinks before turning to face Killian.

“Hello there,” he said, hoping his voice was not shaking. He knew there was nothing really to fear in terms of Killian. The two men had shared the adventure of retrieving and rescuing Belle, as well as probably had quite a bit in common with regard to hobbies and interests. However, there was still a shakiness that came with the unspoken.

“I take it you heard Emma found…” Killian broke off, obviously realizing the ears that could hear about the missing woman.

“Yes, safe and secure,” Graham nodded, stutter stepping toward the door. “She’s good at that, you know.” He realized that Killian was unsure as to whom he was complimenting. “Emma,” he clarified. “She and Ruby can track anyone down.”

Killian smiled, proud to hear someone else’s analysis of Emma. “She’s quite remarkable.”

***AAA***

Emma crossed the street with a final hop onto the sidewalk and a determined set to her jaw as she saw the pawn shop looming ahead. Even in the light of day the shop seemed dark and almost foreboding, a lair of a madman. Her stomach rumbled with a combination of nerves and hunger, realizing that she had not actually eaten since breakfast. She was practically scared to eat with the warnings against almost everything she had come to enjoy.

Clutching the folded form in her hand, Emma took a deep breath and entered the shop, sounding little bell as she pushed through the door.

“Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” Mr. Gold said from somewhere to her right. The cluttered state of the showroom and the need for eyes to adjust to the lower light caused her to feel blinded for a moment. Blinking, she took a step forward and saw the shadow of him against the far wall.

“I brought you that report in case you wanted to officially make a complaint about the item that was stolen,” she said, feeling awkward as she waited.

“I thought it was decided it would be best if we forget that,” he said. His voice was pleasant enough, but Emma could feel and detect the sarcastic edge to it. “You needn’t have troubled yourself with a trip here.”

“It’s part of my job,” Emma said, finally making out his features more clearly. “You’re quite sure this isn’t something that needs to be reported?”

“Quite sure,” he said, mimicking the cadence of her voice. “But I do believe you also still need my assistance.”

Emma felt like she should back her way to the door, exit before anything happened. However, there was no danger in her sights, nothing but the odd uneasiness that usually came with being in the man’s sights. “I do?”

“Yes, that court case of yours. I don’t believe the charges have been dropped.” He smiled. “I know you’ve been busy.”

“I suppose I should concentrate on that again,” she said, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Perhaps next week?”

“Name the day, dearie,” he said. “Just make it soon. You wouldn’t want to end up locked up someplace.”

***AAA***

Belle had to admit that the loft was much more comfortable than the back room of the station, quieter too without people coming and going or the ringing of the phone that seemed incessant. Ruby was fine company, though she was hung over and spent most of the day with a wet cloth over her eyes and lamenting bad choices in men and liquor.

“I was thinking about soup for lunch,” Ruby said when she heard the quiet but noticeable rumble from Belle’s stomach. “I think my stomach can handle that.”

She might have agreed had the door sounded with a knock that was firm and sure against the wood. Arching an inquisitive eyebrow, Belle looked to Ruby to see if she might know who it was since the two women who actually lived there were both at work. “Did you call for anyone?”

Ruby shook her head and motioned for Belle to hide herself in the bathroom until she knew who was there. The waitress waited with her hand on the knob until the clear and accented voice of Killian Jones came through a bit muffled. Laughing, she swung the door open and looked at his hopeful expression.

“I understood that you and Belle were here today so I thought I might bring you lunch,” he said. “Emma tells me that Mary Margaret doesn’t keep much in the way of food supplies other than snack food.”

“That would be Mary Margaret,” Ruby laughed a little too loudly and grabbed her head in protest of the pain. “Why don’t you put it on the counter? I’ll get everything we need.”

Shooting her a sympathetic look, he made his way in with the bag from Granny’s, hoping that she would not notice the connection. “I brought tomato soup,” he said. “Ham and cheese on rye too.” He grinned. “I even managed a couple of cans of soda.”

“Wow,” Ruby said appreciatively as she retrieved the guest from the bathroom. “You are so good at this we should have hired you at the diner.”

“Maybe as a new career,” he said with a smile, hesitating over the bag for a moment. “I suppose Emma is still at work.” He sounded a bit hopeful, but his eyes had less expressiveness in them.

“Yes,” Ruby responded, reaching up into the cupboard to pull out bowls. She picked out three, holding them up in silent invitation to him. “She may check in on Belle in a bit, but I think she has a full day.”

The disappointment was etched on his face as he looked about the sun filled room, imagining Emma there in the mornings with her hair back in a thick braid as he had seen her so many times waking up next to him. He could picture the smile on her face as she tried to pretend she was asleep so that he would go to fetch her what she wanted and the way that she would burrow into the blankets up to her nose when the room was too cold. He missed those little things in the morning. He missed the scent of her on the sheets and way she wiggled up against him after a dream. He missed the way she would read so intently over her notes, silently dissecting the words and running her fingers against her lips without realizing it. He still saw her, of course, but there was something about those nights holding her as she slept and waking up to her that he missed so much that it was an ache inside him.

He could feel both Ruby and Belle’s eyes on him. “I would love to join you two lovely ladies,” he said, shifting himself to the right. “I also hope you might let me leave this for Emma.” He pulled out a single red rose, a simple ribbon tied around it. “I just thought it might make her smile.”

***AAA***

Emma was not smiling when she waited in line at the pharmacy for the prescription of prenatal vitamins that had been ordered for her. She was not even quite sure what they were, but she was not about to ask since that would only rouse more suspicion about her inability to fit in with the rest of Storybrooke. She and Killian had become experts on that silent look of understanding until the clues were revealed.

Mr. Clark, the pharmacist with constant allergies and obviously her mother’s friend from home, Sneezy, was working as fast as he could, but there were still several orders ahead of her. She paced the aisles and picked up a few things, finally coming to the small section of books and magazines that seemed well picked over. She looked a few of the items from the comic books to a magazine or two about celebrity gossip. She glanced at the books next, most of them romances with titles and covers that made her blush. However, one made her reach out. The thick volume promised to tell her everything she needed to know about pregnancy, a lofty order from a book.

Glancing back to the line that was beginning to dwindle around the counter, she placed the book in her basket under the bag of pretzels, a jar of peanut butter, a package of saltines, and something called ginger ale that Ruby had recommended. She made her way back toward the counter and hoped that her name would be called soon.

Mr. Clark was struggling to explain the proper dosage to some woman wearing very strong perfume, his sneezing coming in short bursts of three or four before a break and then another burst. Some of the customers seemed amused with his discomfort, but Emma did not even crack a smile. Reaching back into her basket, she pulled out the book and thumbed through the contents. Some of the chapters and topics were pretty much common sense, but others made her wonder and had her noting to return to them later. She was staring at a diagram when she heard Mr. Clark sneeze again and clear his throat. “Mr. Nolan?”

Emma’s eyes jerked up and she watched her father approach, answering some of the man’s questions before he retreated back to the other waiting spectators against the wall. She couldn’t help but appreciate the sight of him, so familiar and yet so different from her memories. He noticed her, smiled a bit shyly and stepped forward.

“David Nolan,” he said, holding out his hand to her. She took it and felt a slight squeeze as he shook it. “I don’t remember your name, but you’re Mary Margaret’s friend? Correct?”

“Ummm…yes,” she said, realizing how odd that sounded. “We are roommates.” She hoped that was the right word.

His smile was warm as she remembered, eyes twinkling. “I’m afraid being in a coma means my social calendar has been a bit lacking,” he laughed good naturedly. “I haven’t really been much for making friends and acquaintances.”

Emma smiled in return. “I am new in town so I haven’t either,” she admitted.

“I understand that Mary Margaret was kind enough to try to reach out to me through my coma and that you and the waitress from the diner helped search for me? Is that correct?” He looked slightly more nervous, as though there were something else he wanted to ask.

“Yes, that was all a group effort, but Mary Margaret is the one who took the biggest interest. She would tell you stories or read to you each day.” Emma leaned forward as if to whisper. “I think it might have been her that helped you the most.”

“I am grateful,” he commented. “And what brings you here? You’re not sick, I hope.”

She looked flustered, feeling like she was about to have an awkward conversation with her father about being unmarried and pregnant. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head. “Nothing like that,” she said. “I’m just…”

His eyes found the book in her basket and a grin of realization took hold. “I assume that is for you?” he asked, tipping his chin in the direction of her book. “Congratulations. Your first?”

Her hand fluttered around the book and pinkness returned to her cheeks. “Thank you, yes,” she said, again hoping it was the right reaction. She was not sure.

“You and the father are certainly lucky. I’m sure you’ll make wonderful parents.”

**_Review?_ **


	40. Chapter 40

_**A/N: This chapter is a little shorter, but I don't want to overload you on feels. Writing this as a pregnant woman was hard. I ran out of tissues for all the feels. Thank you again for all your reactions and comments. I have loved the surprise and messages of happiness.** _

Emma had to admit that when she was living in the palace it had always seemed too stuffy and formal. However, doors were opened for her, carpets laid out for her service, and every wish and want attended to promptly. She much preferred Storybrooke where she had more independence and less rigidity to her day. But as she stood at the bottom of the stairs after a long day at work, Emma wondered if her tired legs could even carry her. She was still fishing the keys out of her bag when she heard the phone ringing inside the loft, a sound that startled her. Pressing her weight to the door, she opened it slowly to the mumbled sounds of her mother talking and the low drone of a television.

Emma raised an eyebrow at Mary Margaret, but the teacher gestured to give her a moment and disappeared off into the bedroom area of the loft and pulled the curtain closed behind her.

"What's that all about?" Emma asked, plopping herself down inelegantly next to Belle. "Something we should know about?"

Belle shrugged her shoulders. "She's been staring at that device for the last hour. I thought she was going to throw it in the air when that chime sounded on it."

Emma's head lolled back onto the cushion of the couch and she stared up at the ceiling. She had come by to talk to Belle, knowing that the woman needed to be kept in the loop as much as possible, but her mind was on Killian and wondering exactly how to tell him the news. She let her hand drift to her abdomen as Belle described the fun she and Ruby had had that day. Her thoughts were trained on whether the baby was a boy or a girl when she heard Belle's voice saying her name a bit more urgently.

"Emma? Are you even listening?"

"I'm sorry, Belle," Emma said, her voice sounding sincere. "I guess I was distracted. Where is Ruby anyway? I was actually going to talk to both of you about staying out of sight tonight. According to Graham, Regina's starting to get suspicious."

"Mary Margaret suggested that she try to make amends with her grandmother," Belle offered. "She's reluctant, but she went over there."

Emma nodded, agreeing that was probably for the best. Even in Storybrooke, it appeared that the two women were destined to love and fight all in the same breath. She sighed, knowing she needed to get up and moving again, as Killian would probably be at the diner by now or at least close by the place he was calling his home. She needed to talk to him, to tell him everything.

Belle laughed again. "You really are distracted," she said. "Your friend left something for you." The dark haired woman rushed over to the table and returned with the single red rose. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Emma cupped the blossom in her hand, breathing in the breathy scent of the rose. 'It is beautiful." She looked back up to the expectant eyes of Belle. "I'm going to go talk to him. Will you be okay here? I know it's not…"

"It is fine," Belle assured her. "I promise."

Energized, Emma gave her knew friend an excited look with her shoulders raised and then lowered before she headed back out the door. She knew that Mary Margaret would wonder where she had went, wonder why she had not stayed, but Emma knew she needed to have this conversation and sooner rather than later. As it was, Ruby would probably need some form of a muzzle to keep the news secret much longer.

She almost went up to Killlian's room, but decided that the diner was a better choice as she heard the raucous laughter that was usually the result of one of the dwarves showing off for someone. Both of the brothers were likely to be a part of the audience for that. She was right, Killian and Liam were sitting with someone at a booth just across from the counter. She recognized the curls that were natural to Liam's head, but the other head was a mystery. Emma moved her gaze back to Killian instead. He had spotted her immediately, already sliding out of the booth to come to her with a pleased expression on his face.

"Emma," he said with a grin from ear to ear. "I was planning to invite you to dinner, but I did not seem to be able to find you today. Did you get my flower?"

"It's beautiful. Thank you." She breathed in the scent of him, clean soap from Granny's and a little spice from whatever his dinner dish happened to be. "I understand you had lunch with Ruby and our friend?"

He laughed. "They were more pleasant company than my brother," he said, catching her hand and bringing it to his lips. "But less so than you, love." He kissed her hand again. "Is that romantic enough? Ruby suggested I up my game. Whatever that means."

"You must be doing something right," Emma said, not letting go of his grip. "I came to see you, didn't I?"

"That you did," he confirmed, furrowing his brow. "To what do I owe the honor? Please inform me so I may do it again to earn such a reward." Again his eyes twinkled with his words, but he also was biting back laughter.

"Where did you learn those?" she asked, laughter bubbling up even with her stern look. "Did Ruby give you lessons on words to woo a woman?"

"She made me watch some things on that magical box with the moving pictures. Those words seemed to work on the women there." He looked a bit sheepish, redness creeping up his ears. "But not on you?"

Squeezing his hand, she pressed her lips to his cheek and pulled back. "You have already wooed me, Lieutenant Jones," she whispered. "I have actually come into invite you for a walk."

"How forward of you," he said. "Permit me to tell my brother where we are going." Still clutching her hand, he pulled her along.

She was enjoying this playful moments with him, this happiness before she said the words that would change things for them. No matter how happy they might be about a baby, the changes were inevitable. She smiled pleasantly at Liam, grateful that for one more moment he was not aware of her current condition. Then her eyes turned to the other man, her heart feeling somehow off beat as she saw him. David had joined Killian and Liam.

"You know David, don't you Emma?" Liam said, emphasizing the name rather than the relationship. "He's taken a room here while things are sorted out with his wife. So we were sharing a meal with the lad."

"Good to see you again, David," she said, feeling a bit lightheaded over the idea that Killian had been conversing with her father just moments before. That was another idea to add to the overwhelming number.

"And you," he said, smiling and nodding his forehead to where their entwined hands were resting at her stomach. "I had no idea that you and Killian…"

"We're friends," she said quickly and firmly. "I'm afraid I must go though. I was just hoping to steal him away for a few minutes." She blushed at Liam's more knowing glance, head tilted and eyebrow arched as if to call her bold.

"We'll return later," Killian interjected, holding his jacket over one arm and keeping her at his side. "Do carry on without us."

Neither spoke until they were both outside, Emma trying to imagine any scenario that would seem normal where her father was not actually trying to kill Killian for having been with his daughter. She knew deep down that day would come, an angry Snow and David looking upon him as though he had somehow devalued her. She would defend him, she thought vehemently. She would tell them that she loved him, that she wanted him in her life, and that their child was a result of that love. Now she just had to tell Killian.

His fingers were under her chin, lining up her lips to his as he breathed a feathery light kiss on her. "You seem distracted, love," he said. "Is there a reason for this walk or did you just wish to enjoy my company?"

"You know me so well," she said, reaching up so that he could kiss her again. He happily obliged. "Sometimes it is as though you are in my heart and my mind."

"When I fell in love with you," he said, obviously enjoying the way she smiled when he said those words. "I told you that you became a part of me."

"Does that mean that you are a part of me too?" she asked, her arms reached around his waist and her head tilted back to look up at him through her thick lashes. "I think it does."

He hummed his approval, kissing the tip of her nose this time. "I think you are right. We are a part of each other, no matter what may come." They were standing there by the water, feeling the gentle sway of the dock as the water pressed against it. He was watching her as she twisted his embrace and stared out at the brilliant sunset, the eye-popping reds and purples reflecting in the water below. He was about to prompt her again about this conversation when she finally turned towards him.

She smiled softly at him and took both of his hands into hers. "Well, Killian, it seems that your love has decided to literally take root inside of me." She chewed her lip in expectant wonder and worry, concerned that her statement might be too cryptic or even flippant for the situation. "Killian?"

He pulled his eyebrows together and stared down at her, completely puzzled. "What? What ever do you mean it's taken root inside of you?"

Emma laughed softly as she took a step closer to him, removing any space between them. Slowly, she leaned up on her tiptoes and whispered into his ear. "We're going to have a baby, Killian." She pulled back to again study his bearded face, memorize his expression as the words washed over him like a wave obliterating the shore.

It took several seconds for what shed said to filter through his mind. "We're…you're carrying my child?" There was a hint of a smile on him, hope in his eyes as he waited for confirmation.

She grinned and nodded, squeezing his hands as she searched his face. "I'm going to have your baby."

Killian knew he looked like a cod fish just then, with his mouth opening and closing. "Are you sure? Are you quite sure? You have read all the signs. It is for certain? I mean…yes?

"I have not been feeling myself," she admitted, soothing him with her thumb over the skin of his hands as she spoke to remove the worry she saw building. "It seems in this realm there are tests that a woman can take. Dr. Whale gave me the test and said with the upmost certainty that I am to have a baby. I should have told you sooner. I'm sorry. I only wanted to wait to be sure and then to see you alone to tell you."

She saw the tears well in his eyes as his chest contracted with a hundred different emotions. He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly to him, gently swaying her as he held her.

"Why did you wait to tell me? I would have gone with you to the hospital. The test was not unpleasant, was it? It did not hurt you?"

"I wanted to be sure, Killian," she said, hoping she could take away his doubt. "If Id said something you would have gotten your hopes up or worried you, and I didn't want to do that if I wasn't. I didn't want to disappoint you."

He looked a bit more pacified. "Oh, my love, you…you must have been worried to death about it. And I've behaved horribly to get you in this condition without even a ring on your finger." And he could so easily imagine her holding it all in, terrified she wouldn't be pregnant, afraid that she was. "You're well, though? You and our child?"

"I'm perfectly fine, Killian," she assured him. "What about you? Are you disappointed? I know that this isn't the best of timing, but what's done is done." She again bit her lip, the teeth digging in a bit.

"Oh Emma," he said, pulling her close once again and burying his face in her neck and hair. "My love, I am happy to be the father of your child. How could I not be thrilled at that honor?"

"We will need to hurry to move forward with our plans," she said, her voice showing some of the doubt from earlier. "I wouldn't want to put the baby in any danger."

He pulled back, gently stroking her long hair as he studied her precious face. "What do you want to do, Emma? Just tell me, and well do it."

She closed her eyes, resting against him easily. "Can you just hold me for now?"

"That's easily done," he said. "I would never deny you that or anything." His grip around her tightened protectively. "I love you, Emma." He pulled her even closer against him so that no space existed, cradled against his heart with her head on his shoulder. He dropped kisses on her hair and temple.

"I love you too." She nuzzled herself into his embrace, breathing warm air onto the skin between his collar and neck. "Perhaps we could go to your room?"

"Of course," he said, still not moving but holding her against him. "For as long as you like."

"A little while," she said, thinking of Belle and Mary Margaret.

"Forever?"

Maybe it was the dimming light or the surprise over having finally shared this news with him, but Emma looked shocked as he said that word. She had no answer to that, feeling a bit shy at his unadulterated adoration. She loved him. She wanted a future with him, but that one word seemed quite scary. So she said nothing. His bright blue eyes glowing in the shadows. Silently, she reached up her fingers to stroke his face. His skin was already hot to the touch, the heat racing through her hand to coil around her veins. She didn't even consider speaking, not wanting to break the bubble they were in. Instead, she stood on her toes, lifted her head, and gently pressed her lips to his.

The reaction was an immediate explosion of sensations and desire. She sighed deep in her throat as his mouth claimed hers, his teeth nipping the soft flesh. She jolted when his tongue reached out to lave the seam of her lips, coaxing and tempting. Without thought she did as he silently asked, opening to him, melting against him.

_**Review?** _


	41. Chapter 41

**_A/N: One more chapter for you tonight. I may not have a chapter tomorrow, as I have a doctor’s appointment, work, and a work function tomorrow night. So I hope this will tide you over for fluff and a little drama._ **

“I should go,” she said, her body not budging from its spot tucked his side. They had lain there in the bed at Granny’s like that for more than enough time to let their breathing return to normal. His fingers were lazily drifting along her back and his other hand had captured hers just over his heart, her palm feeling the steady cadence of it soothing. He looked absolutely lamb like with sleep about to overtake him, nothing like the man who had stumbled through the door with her earlier. He was not even close to being the same man who had tore at her clothes with such desire as his mouth remained fused to hers.

“Stay,” he mumbled, his voice already sounding rather sleepy. He pressed her hand tighter, as if that might force her to reconsider her statement.

“You’re a horrible influence on me,” she said lightheartedly. “You are a…” She paused to think of the right word to describe him with her teasing. She could feel his eyes on her, studying her and surveying her sheet covered form.

“A scoundrel?” he offered, a smile playing on his lips as she giggled her agreement. Still she did not make a move to rise from the bed. He sighed, ripping his gaze from her to look up to the ceiling, emitting a ragged sigh. “Perhaps I am. That’s how your family and the whole kingdom will view me once the curse is broken. Some might even view my behavior as a crime to have gotten you in such a condition. Do you think you might consider marrying a scoundrel?”

“I might,” she said, “but I think we should not decide such things until later. There is no need to rush on that.”

His brow furrowed with concern, guilt plainly written across his features. “I have behaved so abhorrently,” he said. “To take you in such ways without regard for just this situation. I don’t know how you cannot hate me.”

Lifting her head to rest her chin on his chest, she frowned. “Killian, you didn’t do this alone,” she reminded him. “We have both participated quite keenly. I am just as much at fault.” She cringed a bit. “I don’t like referring to our child that way though. Killian, it’s okay. We’re going to be parents. Isn’t that a good predicament?”

“I’m having a devil of a time picturing myself as a father,” he admitted, shaking his head a bit. “You will have to teach me the ways of this.”

She laughed, glad he was seeming to relax a little. “I don’t quite know what I am doing either.” She told him of the brochures, Dr. Whale’s suggestions and a book that seemed so overwhelming that she had slammed it shut twice in the process of trying to read it. “We can learn together.”

“Does that mean you’re staying?” he asked, eyebrow quirked in curiosity and question.

“We don’t have to do all this studying in one night. We have a few months.” Her protests grew silent as he rolled her onto her back, propping himself up on one elbow beside her and his free hand trailing down to her stomach.

“Stay,” he said, quietly and earnestly. “Emma, please stay.”

She did.

Killian felt the shift in the mattress weight when she rose the next morning muttering a protest about time and thin curtains that did nothing to keep the morning sun from shining in her eyes. He chuckled, knowing that despite all the changes and pending changes in their lives, she was still not a morning person. Running a hand over his face, he smiled to himself that she had stayed despite her protests that she shouldn’t. The morning had become a ritual of holding her, listening to her breath, hearing her protests that she needed just a bit more sleep, and feeling her nestle in to him as though he might protect her from the demands of the day. He missed that, missed her cold feet and embarrassed looks when he might comment on them. He missed her laugh when would dig his fingers into her sensitive and ticklish flesh. He simply missed these moments.

Throwing back the covers, he resisted the urge to colorfully describe the temperature of the room as he scooted over to the dresser where Granny supplied what appeared to him to be a miniature coffee pot and packets of coffee. He had slid from the bed a few hours before and poured water into the machine to be prepared. A few moments later the machine was sizzling and gurgling to life. He stood back, proud of his handiwork.

Emma was still behind the closed door, but he smiled at the smell of her on his skin and in the warm sheets. Resting back on the bed with a pillow between his back and headboard, he waited for her. The events of the day before were still playing in his mind, the words echoing over and over. She was carrying his child, a thought that had never even made way to his hopes. He’d doubted he was even worthy of her, wondered if she might ever see past his station and hers to find a future with him, but now it seemed that a future seemed inevitable. The thought of that made him smile, picturing himself waking up with her, caring for their child, maybe finding a life together that wasn’t either his or hers but theirs.

She emerged moments later, the long blonde hair that he adored was framing her face and she had pulled on his shirt since her night clothes remained at the loft. The blue button down hit her about mid-thigh and made him swell a bit with pride to see her in something of his. She hopped onto the bed, folding her legs under her and sitting back on her heels. “I need to go get my clothes so I can go to work,” she said apologetically. “Can we maybe have dinner?”

“Of course,” he said, leaning forward to capture her lips in a short kiss. “I would love the time with you. Don’t you think perhaps it might be best for you to move back here?”

She ran her tongue along her lips, pausing before she answered. “I think I should stay at the loft until we work out the solution with Belle and Mr. Gold.” She smoothed her fingers over his frown, smiling as he kissed them. “Don’t pout Killian.”

“You cannot blame me,” he said petulantly. “Having you in my bed is spoiling me to the point that your absence is torture.” Giving her his best hangdog expression.

“And you call me a princess,” she scoffed. “I think someone is a little more spoiled than he admits.”

He dropped his pouting expression, combing his fingers down through her hair. “But you are a princess, love. You are gentle, generous, caring, loving, beautiful, and all together a wonderful person.” She shook her head to protest. “Of course I’m disappointed not to be able to spend every moment with you. I’m just considering myself lucky that a stunning princess would even speak to me, let alone share a bed with me.”

“You are hoping that flattery will make me stay,” she accused. “But you have to do your duties at work today too.” She wagged a finger at him playfully. “We cannot stay here all day.”

His pout returned. “May I persuade you with a cup of coffee?” he asked, jumping up from the bed and crossing the couple of steps to the now complete miniature pot. “I thought we could share a cup before we face the rest of the citizens of Storybrooke.” Holding the mug out to her, he kept his eyes trained on the small machine to ensure that it was not left on – a fire hazard according to the establishment’s proprietress. He did not catch the pallid shade of green on her face or the way she covered her mouth with a long fingered hand.

“Emma?” he called as he heard her groan loudly and run for the small bathroom.

“Don’t bring that in here,” she said, almost commanding as she sank down onto her knees. He placed the mug back on the dresser without the use of a coaster, ignoring the damage that he might do to the wood surface and hurried toward her and cringing when he heard her retching. Carefully, he pushed the door open and found her slumped over the toilet bowl. “Oh, my love.” He leaned down and gently pulled her hair from her face, laying a soft hand on her back as she continued to heave. A few moments later she sat back, letting her head fall against the bathroom wall as she closed her eyes. He quickly wet a washcloth and placed it over her forehead, trying not to be too concerned about the white pallor of her skin. He slowly slid down beside her and took her limp hand in his. Quietly, he laid a kiss on her knuckles and asked softly, “Emma, are you okay? Is something wrong that made you this ill?” She let out a long breath before she nodded. “I’m…I’m fine, Killian, I promise. It was just the baby and the coffee…” “Emma, is something wrong with the baby? Do you need…Emma? What’s wrong?”

She explained the concept of morning sickness to him the best she could, using the least technical of Dr. Whale’s terms. The smell of coffee had not been that strong the in the room, but once the mug was in front of her, she had felt the contents of her stomach churn and grow angry at the wafting scent.

“I’ll throw out every drop,” he insisted, still cradling her. “I’m sorry, my love, I didn’t know. Forgive me?” She only sighed, seeming to test her stomach as she sat there resting her chin on his shoulder. “I have not been around many women who are with child, love. I am afraid you may have to teach me even before he or she arrives.”

“We’ll learn together,” she repeated. “We’ll learn together.”

***AAA***

Killian had thankfully dashed to his brother’s room without explanation to rid them of the coffee that had caused such an episode. He’d indulged and coddled her as she tried to ready herself to go back to the loft to the point that she snapped at him and then tearfully apologized for her outburst. He’d even insisted that he walk her to the loft.

“It is so close,” she had said. “You don’t have to worry.”

“But what if you became ill on your walk,” he had argued. “I should be there to care for you.”

She had cupped his cheek and opened her mouth to protest, but found herself taken by his adorable and unbridled concern for her. He’d been through so many emotions in the last 12 or so hours, elation, fear, condemnation, concern, and happiness. And still his thoughts turned to her. He’d walked her back, kissing her sweetly at the door as though they had just been on a simple date and tucking her hair behind her ears as he asked what she would like for dinner.

She was still thinking of that smile later when she arrived at the sheriff’s station, finding Graham at her desk. He rarely came to her desk, respecting her space enough to ask permission. But there he sat with his shoulders slumped and his head leaning toward the book of fairy tales. She stopped short, her breath catching.

“This is that book that you had me retrieve?” he asked, turning the pages with delicate precision. “Emma? Why are the pictures of people we know? Why are the stories so familiar?”

“It’s just a book,” she said, brushing off the accusatory tone. “It’s just…”

He pointed a finger at one of the illustrations, his voice quivering with anger. “Emma, is this supposed to be me?” The image on the page depicted a young Snow White cowering in front of the queen’s huntsman. The look of humanity on his face was evident. “Answer me.”

Emma nodded, her voice lost in the anger and realization. “Yes,” she whispered.

“I betrayed her – Regina – to save Snow White,” he said aloud, though he was clearly working through that equation in his own mind. “She’s Mary Margaret. We’re all in this book. We’re all in this book, aren’t we Emma?”

Again the blonde princess nodded her head solemnly. “Yes, Graham.”

He slammed book shut, pushing it on the smooth surface of the desk. “I don’t understand. That man in the story. He’s not me. I’m not him.”

Biting her lip, she took a step toward him only for him to draw away. “Graham, it’s not that bad. I promise.” She felt herself growing lightheaded and worried at his intense glare. “There was a curse…it brought…I don’t know.” She swayed as she stood, the floor seeming to move under her. The words fell out of her mouth, dancing across the room as she told him what she knew of the curse, their identities and even the book itself.

Graham looked ill, even convulsing a bit as he clearly reconciled the stories he had just read and heard with the memories that had been masquerading as dreams. “She still has my heart,” he said with a frantic tone. “Regina took my heart to control me. She still has it.”

While she had never actually seen it done, Emma had heard tales of Regina’s ability to pull a heart from a living being. The concept scared her, but she remembered in vivid detail that it was possible. “Are you sure?” she asked the man before her.

“Certain. It’s…I…It would explain so much…”

***AAA***

Mary Margaret carried the basket of warm rolls from the counter to the table and stood back, tapping a finger against the side of her cheek. Inspecting the table, she reached out to straighten the two long tapered candles and then quickly pulled her hand back. They might be a bit much, she decided and removed them from the center of the table.

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat with us?” she asked Belle again, looking up guiltily. “It’s not a date or anything. He just wanted to thank me for reading to him and all.” The teacher again looked at the table, this time removing the fresh flowers and handing the small vase to Belle. “I think this might be too much.”

Belle shook her head. “I’m going to go upstairs and read,” she said. “Don’t you want to be alone with him?”

“I don’t know,” Mary Margaret said slowly. Then smiling, she tugged at her sweater. “I could use the company. Please?”

Emma found them still discussing he arrangements for dinner when she ducked in to change and grab a few things. She felt even more exhausted after her conversation with Graham, knowing that he was probably some place drinking away the memories that were now a little closer to the surface in his mind. He had told her that he did not want to hear more, unable to fathom the full depth of the curse and what that meant for a man who had memories of a whole different life. She had felt a tear slip down her face as she watched him walk away from her.

“Emma,” her mother asked, “are you alright? You look like you might be coming down with something?” Despite the fact that she did not remember being Emma’s mother, the woman turned her hand around and felt her daughter’s forehead and cheeks with the smooth skin. “No fever.”

“Just a little run down,” Emma insisted. “What do you have planned? It looks like a bit of a fancy fare in here.” She surveyed the pots and pans boiling and simmering on the stove, a bottle of wine sitting off to the side and clean wine glasses next to it. “It is a bit romantic for a girls’ night?”

Belle gave Mary Margaret an I told you so look while the teacher blushed. “I made dinner for David Nolan. He wants to come by to thank me for spending so much time trying to wake him up. He suggested dinner at Granny’s, but I thought this would be better.” She frowned. “I didn’t mean for it to look romantic. I guess I went overboard.”

“I don’t think you went overboard,” Belle interjected. “I just think it is strange you want a chaperone.”

Emma laughed, giving each of them a quick hug and explained she was late for dinner with Killian. “Should we wait up?” Mary Margaret asked, only answered by a giggle from the blonde woman.

***AAA***

David had complimented every bite of the meal, kept his eyes locked on Mary Margaret’s, and even managed a few words directly to Belle who had sat there as awkwardly as she felt. Twice she had tried to leave, but they had protested and insisted that she stay. So when there was a frantic knock at the door, she jumped up without excusing herself and opened it without regard to what she would have done was it Regina or Rumpelstiltskin.

“Did Emma arrive here?” Killian asked her, his blue eyes flashing wildly around the shabby chic interior of the loft. “She never arrived at the diner. Please tell me she’s still here.”

Belle closed the door behind him as he stood to the center of the room and almost spun in his search. Mary Margaret was already rushing toward him with questions. “What do you mean? No, she’s not here. Where else could she be? What do you mean you don’t know?”

David placed a hand on Mary Margaret’s shoulder and threw a sympathetic glance at the man asking where his young love was hidden. “Belle,” the calmer man said with his gaze turned to Belle. “Why don’t you start by calling the sheriff and Ruby.” He twisted his gaze back to Killian. “Your brother is out looking for her?” Killian nodded. “Great. Let’s get a plan together. We’ll find her.”

**_Don’t you just hate a cliffhanger?_ **


	42. Chapter 42

**_A/N: Good news – I got this chapter up for you tonight. Bad news – It is shorter than originally planned. I had written half of it before, but it was lost when my computer locked up. So this is the rewrite._ **

 

The darkness was thicker than any she had known since childhood. Not one for nightmares, she had been scared beyond belief when her mind twisted in such a fanciful way that she saw monsters and tyrants in her dream state. Her father had been the one to answer her cries in the night, finding her buried beneath the blankets so deep that light dared not enter her fluffy sanctuary. He had encouraged her to emerge from her cocoon, push back the blankets and come into the circle of his arms that were more protective.

 

This thick darkness did not move away. She felt the suffocating hear from it, the tightness of her muscles from restraints and the dryness on her mouth from a gag. Her ears seemed to be her only hope for understanding her surroundings. Her mother had taught her that, observation before action was advisable. The mechanical hum was slightly familiar and told her that they were in one of the horseless carriages that people in Storybrooke called a car. The feel of the leather against her hands confirmed this, as she was probably in the rear seat.

 

She twisted a bit, trying to lower the blanket with her head, but it remained over her. She had no idea where they were, but at least she had identified a moving vehicle. She kicked her feet a few inches, realizing they were not restrained, a good a sign for her ability to run if given the chance. If it was a car, that meant she was not alone. There was someone in the front seat driving. That was a given. Since there was no talking, she assumed him or her to be without another passenger.

 

She had not seen her assailant, having been struck and dragged from behind. One moment she had been contemplating a meatloaf dish or a hamburger special and the next she felt a searing pain in her head. He, she assumed the assailant to be a he from the size of the hand she had seen, had said nothing. There were no clues there, she thought.

 

Her ears perked as a voice came into clarity with a crackling sound that was familiar from her workplace. It was what Graham referred to as a radio. That had seemed such a strange word given that Mary Margaret called the device that made music the same thing. She could not make out the voice, as it usually spoke in ten codes and jargon unfamiliar to her, but it was a connection to the outside world.  

 

The radio crackled again, this time with instructions about the hospital. Emma’s stomach churned as she recognized the voice on the other end.

 

 

***AAA***

 

Killian hated feeling helpless, hated the sensation of hopeless wandering most of all. And tonight he had both. Joined with his brother and Ruby, the trio had scoured much of the downtown area without much success and found themselves headed toward the town line with a little less to go on than a gut instinct from Killian and Ruby’s sense that someone would try to hide her away from the public.

Just the night before she had been in his arms, safe and warm. She’d laughed when he’d suggested a name for their unborn child, telling him it was too soon for such talk. She’d moaned as his lips mapped trails on her skin. She’d tickled his skin with her eyelashes as she demanded a story from him to help her sleep, sighing contentedly as he spoke of some memory of the past. He’d been only six when the village’s priest was to pay his family a visit. His mother had been cleaning and baking for days with the boys under foot so she had sent them to the market to look at the fresh fish brought in that day. His brother had fallen into the channel when walking on the high retaining wall, a move that was forbidden by their mother’s paranoia that something awful would happen. Though the water was only 12 inches deep in that part of the channel – rain having been a rare occurrence that year – Killian jumped in to save his older brother. Both of their carefully pressed outfits now damply ruined.

 

“You’re such a good brother,” she had told him, her golden hair trailing over his stomach and her hands splayed out on him. “You’ll be a wonderful father too.”

 

He wanted to smile at the memory, remember again how he had pulled her up to him and kissed her so passionately that he had almost forgotten to breathe. He wanted to remember how after she fell asleep he had traced his fingers along her abdomen and promised his unborn child that he would be a better father than his had been. But that all seemed so far away. Somewhere out there was his Emma, fighting a battle he was not even present to help her win.

 

***AAA***

 

The wind whipped up close to the shoreline as Mary Margaret and David followed a set of tire tracks that did not seem to be on a normal path. The teacher wrapped her coat tightly around herself and was grateful for the wind that dried her tears as she peered into the darkness of the unlit beach with only her flashlight. It seemed like such a nothing thing, following tracks of someone’s car along the beach, but she was beginning to be frightened. It had been three hours and some odd minutes since anyone had heard from or seen Emma. The mind could conjure up many horrendous outcomes in that amount of time.

 

“Is that?” David asked, flashing his light in the direction of the low wave rolling ashore. A bright red object bobbed and then disappeared below the surface.

 

“A bag,” Mary Margaret answered with both relief and disappointment. “Darn polluters.”

 

Normally he would have laughed at her, been amused by her quiet defiance that hid a steely warrior in disguise. He could see the warrior in her as she helped him direct the search parties in the absence of Graham, but he knew the demeanor was tenuous at best. Emma was her friend, as close to family as it came in a town that seemed to have few if any ties between its citizens. Who could blame her for grabbing at it?

 

“Emma,” he said, looking back toward the tall reeds along the barrier. “She seems like a nice person. I mean I have talked to her a few times, but she seems nice.”

 

An unrecognizable emotion flashed across her face, but he could not try to discern it in the shadows. “She is very nice,” Mary Margaret said a bit tersely. “She’s also very much in love with Killian.”

 

“What?” David asked, sounding a bit thrown. “Oh I know about her and Killian. She’s clearly in love with him. It’s written all over both of them. You can’t miss it.”

 

Mary Margaret took a few steps toward the lapping waves, shining her weak flashlight out into the vastness and finding nothing noteworthy. “She’s my friend,” Mary Margaret said slowly. “I have friends. I have Ruby. I have friends. It’s just. Everyone in this town has known each other forever. We are all so caught up in our own lives that we forget how to live. We forget how to do anything but go through the motions, but then someone new comes into our lives. I don’t even remember meeting Ruby or Graham or anyone, but I remember Emma. It is different.”

 

He nodded, shining his light on a mound that had been a sandcastle earlier that day. The waves had already begun to destroy it, taking out to see the memories of some child. “I think that’s great that she’s special to you,” he said. “You seem very protective of her.”

 

Her laugh was harsher than she meant and she clapped her hand over her mouth to silence it. He looked at her as if to ask about her reaction. “It’s just that you don’t protect Emma. She protects herself. She’s tough.”

“She’s lucky to have you.”

 

“And vice versa,” Mary Margaret laughed. “I heard her once slip and call me mom, which was funny at the time. But I think that’s how she sees me, as this woman who guides and encourages her. It is kind of nice to have that sort of friendship.”

 

David looked up toward the tree line just ahead of them, seeing the lights of other searchers flickering among the trees and brush. “Looks like we caught up them.”

 

“Maybe they had better luck than us.”

 

***AAA***

 

Liam took two steps to keep up with each that his brother took hurrying behind him as the two men tried to catch up with the waitress who was leading the way. After years at sea and working his way up in the royal navy, Liam was not sure how exactly he felt about taking orders from a woman, but he was determined to see his brother find the woman he loved so he put aside the feelings of uneasiness that came with the rank.

 

“We’ll find her,” he said, repeating the sentiment for what felt like the fiftieth time. His brother was silent, looking skyward at times and others clenching his fists so tightly that he might break his own fingers. “Ruby’s quite adept at tracking.”

 

The waitress paused for a moment, her eyes darting to empty spots in the darkness and angling her head as though she might hear something that no one else perceived. She stooped down to look in the gravel at the side of the road, inspecting something then smoothing her hand over it. She frowned.

 

“Anything?” Killian asked, his voice hoarse.

 

“Not yet,” she said grimly. “I’m worried. The longer…”

 

“We’ll find her,” Liam repeated. “Perhaps we should start thinking of who might have done this. Regina is an obvious suspect.”

 

The brunette woman brushed her hands of on the black skirt she wore. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Regina’s a bit on the angry side as mayor, but I don’t think kidnapping would really serve her purpose.” Ruby took a quick look at where Killian was pointing his flashlight and shook her head. “Not there.”

 

“Okay then, Mr. Gold. We know he’s not the most upstanding of Storybrooke’s citizens. Could he have some plan for her?” Liam crouched a bit lower to look at what Ruby had already discarded. “Maybe ransom?”

 

“Who would have the money to pay it?” Ruby challenged, beginning to walk at a brisk pace. “No offence, but Emma doesn’t really hang with a rich crowd. She’s an assistant to the sheriff who has a clerk for a boyfriend and a teacher for a roommate. We’re not talking six figure salaries here.”

 

“Then some other purpose?” Liam said, shaking his head. “There has to be a reason.”

 

Ruby’s heels sunk into the ground as she rushed down a path toward the woods. “This way,” she told them. “I don’t know the whys. Maybe it’s random. Maybe it has to do with something. We need to find her. We need to do this quickly.”

 

Killian was only steps behind her as she paused again, almost running into her had he not noticed. “The woods,” she said. “This way.” The two men followed her, stumbling over roots and rocks on the path that they had no way to see in the darkness.

 

“I think…” Ruby was off again, this time down another path and toward what appeared to be a clearing. Killian was cursing under his breath and Liam panted with the exertion.

 

Liam leaned his shoulder on the trunk of a tree and watched the woman again seem to go into her own ritual of searching. The flannel of his shirt stuck to the bark and he regretted it briefly. His younger brother was growing agitated with the wait and paced a bit, kicking at the dirt beneath them. He wished for something to say that would make it all better. The pain in his brother was palpable, from the way his lower lip trembled to the way his eyes painfully searched every shadow for the woman he clearly loved. This was more than just a man with a sense of duty for protecting a princess. His brother was in love and it was written all over him.

 

“So when we find her, brother,” he said in a hushed tone so not to disturb Ruby, “are you planning to propose? Because I would surely think that her parents might appreciate that more than your dalliances without any thoughts to the future.”

 

Killian’s mouth was dry and his voice hoarse. “I would propose this moment if I thought she would accept,” he said, thinking about how she had deflected any talk of such things the night before. “I would marry her in an instant.”

 

“Then, brother, let us find her,” he said. “We’ll be celebrating your engagement and wedding soon enough. For now, though, let’s go out there and bring her back. Because I know you, Lieutenant Jones. You won’t rest until she is back here with you.”

 

***AAA***

 

Graham heard the phone on the passenger seat vibrating incessantly, the numbers appearing familiar from the most recent days of work. He tried to ignore them, just as he wanted to ignore the tugging in his chest that was forcing him to be a man he didn’t want to be.

 

Emma would be awake soon, her feisty behavior on full display. She did not deserve this, did not deserve the pain and anguish she would experience all because…He was not sure of the reason. Regina was the one who had ordered him, forced his hand because she had control of his heart. And now he was driving the patrol car toward the hospital with very little recourse.

 

He hit the steering wheel, willing his hands to turn the car in any other direction. But the pull in his chest was strong and throbbed in the hollowness that had felt normal. He tried to ignore it. Tried to think of anyone or anything but Regina and Emma. The book of fairy tales sat next to his phone, the pages more than memories now as he pictured each in his mind. He was the huntsman, he told himself. He would have to be ready to hunt.

 


	43. Chapter 43

**_A/N: So I am still overwhelmed by all of you for reading, commenting, favoriting, and whatnot. It is such a great feeling to see people’s reactions to the surprises, the drama, and the love I have tried to write into this story. I hope you are all still with me as we get into more of the drama and head toward a happy ending._ **

Ruby tried to ignore the voices of the others as she waited on any clue to strike her as to Emma’s whereabouts. She knew that the woman had not gotten far, as there were only so many square miles and nobody ever seemed to leave the town without some sort of issue. She’d already been by the town line and it seemed undisturbed, so that meant that Emma was still in Storybrooke. Liam and Killian had called that reasoning ridiculous, but she felt it deep inside.

Not an overly emotional person, Ruby tried to avoid the scenes like the two brothers talking and avoided Mary Margaret even more once she had David had joined them in the woods. The teacher often displayed more emotions in a single day than Ruby displayed in a month, but that was usually one of the things that Ruby admired about her friend. Usually. Tonight it was distracting her from the task at hand.

Her phone vibrated and chirped in her pocket, a renewed hope surging through her until she saw on the screen that it was simply a call from Victor. She thought about screening it, letting it go to voice mail with the dozen others over the past few days where he had apologized to her for lying. But she knew that Belle had planned to call him to confirm that Emma was not lying in a hospital bed with injuries. So she answered it, a short curt greeting and a pause for him to talk. If he found that awkward, it did not stop him.

“I don’t know if it is related, but you should hear this,” he was saying, his voice purposefully low and quiet. “Regina sent a message earlier to be prepared for a new patient in the basement. I’m to give her a strong sedative. I think she might be talking about Emma.”

Ruby gasped, her chest burning with the pressure. “Can you stall her?”

“I can’t promise anything, but I think I have a way to distract her.” He paused, the sounds of the ordinary hospital business in the background. “Is Belle safe? Hidden, I mean.”

Taken aback by the question, Ruby stuttered through her answer. “Yes, well, I mean she’s safe.”

“Good,” he said. “Keep her safe. I’m going to let Regina find out she’s missing. That will slow her down a bit if she knows she’s got another liability on the loose. But you guys have to hurry. There’s not much I can do once she is determined.”

Ruby felt her toes curl in her shoes, digging into the soles as she focused her energy on the conversation. “Why are you trying to help us?” she asked, the brazenness once again displayed. “You are a liar and have already betrayed us.”

“Ruby, I know you don’t trust me. I betrayed that, but I’m not a monster. Emma’s missing. We have to work together to save her.”

Ruby was quiet, her fingers on her free hand twisted in the hem of her top.

“Don’t let your pride stop you from working with me, Ruby,” he said. “Please. Just listen. Belle could be in trouble.”

“That would be your own making,” she pointed out. “You’re the one who…”

“If I don’t, Emma will be locked up downstairs. Regina’s not going to let us get a chance to rescue her out of there. Don’t you see? We’ve got to get Emma before Regina can lock her away.”

The waitress stared at the phone for a full minute after he disconnected. He was trying to help, she told herself, trying to make up for having felt it necessary to call after David woke from his coma. She still felt angry, but she agreed that perhaps confusing Regina was a good plan. However, the last thing she wanted to do was explain the intricate details to everyone, especially when she was not sure of them herself.

Grabbing Liam’s shoulder, she pulled him off to the side and began explaining the situation. Liam shot a glance at the others who were bent over a map of Storybrooke.

“How is she getting her there?” he asked.

“I don’t know for certain,” Ruby answered, casting her own glance toward the other three. “But my suspicion is Graham. He’s not answering his phone. He’s not at the station. And now with this news…he’s the one who took Belle to the hospital the first time. Who’s to say he isn’t taking Emma there too.”

“So we need to find Graham,” Liam said thoughtfully, pushing up on the sleeves of his shirt. “Immediately.”

***AAA***

Graham heard the familiar voice of the doctor on the radio, his ears keened for the information. He breathed heavily upon the news that he should reverse direction and take Emma toward the cemetery. Closing his eyes, the patrol car swerved slightly over the center line, the honking horn of an oncoming car breaking through his reverie. He corrected by pulling the steering wheel to the right, two tires leaving the paved surface.

He hated himself, he thought as he drove down the darkened road to where he was now instructed. She shouldn’t have this much control, he thought. He was his own man. The memories of the man he had been were flooding back to him now more than ever, the scent of the Enchanted Forest after a rain, the warmth of his wolf rubbing against his legs, and the steam off the body of an animal freshly killed for its meat. He remembered the feeling of the ground beneath his boots and the crispness of the leaves in the fall.

He also remembered Regina. As the wheels of his car hummed along the road, he could feel himself walking the long hallway to give her an animal heart rather than that of the woman she had wished him to kill. The fear in him as he approached her, knowing that this betrayal could result in his death. His chest ached with the feeling as he recalled the conversation, her happiness at his success and then the suspicion over his duplicity. Her hand had reached for him, bringing the life force out of his chest and holding it between them as if it was just an object to be observed and destroyed. She had squeezed it for emphasis, his breath leaving him and his eyes fluttering shut.

She had told him that she would not kill him that day, that she wanted to keep him around. She owned him. She owned him then. Did she own him still?

***AAA***

The air seemed thick as the five of them stood in the clearing just beyond the edge of the woods, flashlights prone and ready. None of them were saying much other than a few questions about what was their next step. Graham was still not answering his phone. Emma had not been seen in hours. And there seemed to be no clues as to where she could have gone.

“Belle,” Liam said, as clear as if she was standing there in front of them.

Mary Margaret cocked her head and looked at him strangely. “No, Liam,” she said. “I’m Mary Margaret. This is David, Killian, Ruby, and you’re Liam. Belle’s back at the loft.” The woman looked overdressed for a walk in the woods with her dark pants, sweater set, and pea coat with the oblong buttons.

Letting out a frustrated grunt, the naval captain shook his head. “No, the answer is Belle,” he said, gesturing to Ruby to pull out her phone again. “Contact her to say we’re on the way back. We’re taking her to Mr. Gold.”

“Wait!” Killian called out as Liam and David both began to head up the path to where one of the cars was parked. “Is this a good idea? What if it’s…”

Liam folded his arms obstinately and stared at his brother. “I know that Emma had a plan with Belle, but clearly that’s not going to happen if she’s missing. Come now. It’s worth a shot. That man will be much more willing to help if we can make a deal with him. What better deal than knowing the woman you love is still alive?”

Mary Margaret looked confused as she took a few steps toward the men. “What do you mean the woman he’s in love with? Belle and Mr. Gold? Really?” She’d only recently met the young woman, but she could hardly picture such grace and innocence with a man who many feared. “Is this even safe? Emma said that Belle was hiding from someone who was trying to hurt her. What if that someone is Mr. Gold?”

Killian’s look went from exhausted to frantic again in a matter of seconds. “Brother, you stay here and explain to the ladies what is really going on with Belle. David and I will go get her. You’re right. We shouldn’t be wasting time discussing this.” He yanked the flashlight out of his brother’s hand and marched up the path that would lead them to the car, hoping that David was following him.

Liam shrugged slightly and approached the teacher with a mea culpa expression on his face that he hoped would relax her a bit. She was clearly in a blaming mood, especially when it came to herself. “You see,” he said, again gesturing for Ruby to finish the call, “Belle was placed in an institution by Regina. We were hoping that by bringing her to Mr. Gold to see if he can help us by giving him a bargaining tool.”

“She’s a person not a bargaining tool,” Mary Margaret protested loudly. “Does she even want to be with him? Is she aware of this?”

“Emma has had several conversations with her to that end,” Liam said, looking to Ruby for a bit of help. The waitress did not meet his gaze. The heels of his hands ran the length of his face. “Mary Margaret, Emma, Killian, and I wanted to help her. She, like some others here in Storybrooke, don’t remember everything about their pasts. We are helping her. But we need her to do this to help Emma.”

Mary Margaret shook her head. “What are you talking about? Not remembering? Who isn’t remembering?”

“Ms. Blanchard,” Liam said, twisting his face into a grimace. “I appreciate the questions. I do, but right now the focus needs to be on Emma. I’ve spent too much time on this as it is. Let’s get over to the hospital. I think we might be served better by going there.”

***AAA***

David’s truck roared to life with some sort of 1980s song on the radio that bounced off the vibrating windows and made Killian jump from both the noise and the situation. He could count on one hand the number of times that he had ridden in a motorized vehicle, each time seemingly scarier than the last. And the fact that he was riding alongside Emma’s father was not lost on him.

“I’m not sure I understand all this,” David said as he shifted the truck into reverse and backed out onto the street. “Why is Belle hiding from Mr. Gold?”

“I’m not sure that I can explain,” Killian answered. “It’s rather complicated.”

Tightening his grip on the gear shift, David stared out into the darkness, almost forgetting to turn on the headlights of the truck. “I’m sure it is,” he said tersely. “I’m thinking that I’d like to hear the explanation anyway, but let’s pretend for a moment that I don’t need it. Let’s look at this logically. We’re picking up Belle and what then?”

“We go to the pawn shop,” Killian said affirmatively. “From there, I don’t know.”

David hit the power button on the radio and it died just as quickly as it had sounded and filled the cab with music. “Who else knows?” David asked. “About the baby?”

Killian looked out of the corner of his eye at the man, trying to understand the question. Emma had mentioned that he knew, said that he saw her holding a book about pregnancy at the pharmacy. “I suppose you, me, Victor, and Ruby,” he said. “Plus Emma, of course.”

David expelled a breath of air, the window beside him fogging slightly. “I think we can’t just ignore that she finds out she’s pregnant and then goes missing all in the span of 24 hours. That’s a little too coincidental.” He used the cuff of his shirt and the sleeve to clear the window. “But none of those people would hurt her, so it must be something else.”

“It has to be,” Killian said, closing his eyes to sooth the uneasiness he felt from the speed of the truck. “I can’t fathom anyone wanting to hurt Emma though.” He knew that her status as the royal daughter and her role in removing the curse was certainly fodder, but he truly could not imagine anyone not loving the young woman.

“Neither can I.” Emma’s father smiled knowingly. “So I guess I don’t really have room to ask this question, but for some reason I really want to know. What exactly are your intentions with Emma? Are you planning to marry her? Are you looking for a way out? What’s going on?”

Curling his fingers into the palm of his hand, Killian placed the fist at his mouth as though he might cough. “I fully intend to marry her,” he said, consciously not using the word sir at the end though the sentence certainly called for it. “Her condition is certainly a surprise, but it in no way has done anything to dismiss my feelings for her. If anything, I love her more.” Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he was talking to Emma’s father. This conversation would certainly have a more ominous tone upon the return of the prince’s memories, but Killian’s intentions and message would not change.

“I’m glad to hear it,” David said, removing his hand from the gear shift to tap the other man’s arm with his fist. “From what Mary Margaret tells me and what I’ve seen, Emma deserves every bit of happiness. You’re a lucky man.”

“Aye,” Killian said with his own smile returning. “I tell myself that every day.”

***AAA***

The gravel crunched under the patrol car as Graham steered it off the road and down the narrow path between the tombstones. He’d made this drive before, but he was unsure exactly when or even how he had done it. He couldn’t remember the last funeral he’d attended here or even the last person who had died. Yet row upon row of stones lined the path with fresh flowers at some and others rotting with neglect.

His jaw clenched as he saw the marble structure, windowless and dark among the stones. He must have seen it before, as he knew it the moment it came into view. This would be where Regina would meet him. He didn’t want to think why.

Pushing the gear shift into park and cutting the engine, he left the lights blazing for a moment with the fog already settling low among the stones. Why was it fog did that in cemeteries? What reason could there be? He turned the nob and killed the lights, sighing heavily in the darkness that now enveloped them. He could hear her now, Emma was awake and moving slightly under the blanket that he had thrown over her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to himself and to her, hoping that she would not hate him half as much as he hated himself. With the feeling again returning to that empty spot in his chest, he pressed against the door and stumbled out into the night.

The moon overhead lit enough of the path for him to see it and see the shadow at the door of the crypt. She was there, waiting for him, the air crackling as he tried to drag his feet. She had not even acknowledged him, but he could hear her inside.

Maneuvering his way around the car, he opened the back door, the dome light overhead coming on with a flicker. He pulled back the blanket to see her scared eyes blinking into the light with confusion and anger. He couldn’t meet her stare, pulling her so that she was sitting up and then standing, arms clasped behind her at the wrists and elbows. Each move excruciating for her, the groans evident even through the gag. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m so sorry.”

He pushed her onto the car’s hood, leaving her there as he went back to get his tool bag. Regina would ask for it. He was not stalling, only saving steps. Emma was pleading with him, her eyes flashing wildly as he pulled her back up and teetered toward the crypt.

“Welcome,” Regina said as he stood before her. Her voice dripped with sarcasm and she thrust the flashlight’s glare toward Emma to inspect her. “You did a good job.”

He wasn’t seeing the mayor standing in a moonlit cemetery. He was seeing the regal but evil queen who he had served and feared for years. Blinking, he tried to clear his vision, but he could not. He was no longer the sheriff, only the huntsman.

***AAA***

David was two steps behind him as he shouldered his way through the door of the pawn shop, the man behind the counter looking a bit surprised to see someone ignoring the closed sign on his door. There were no emergencies worth such an intrusion into a place that sold old merchandise that seemed to have no purpose in this realm. Killian did not even look at the items, heading straight for the man and placing his palms down on the counter and leaning forward.

“Do you know where she is?”

Rumpelstiltskin loved a man or woman off kilter. It was his best bargaining chip of all. People who had lost their balance grasped for anything and everything to right themselves. It appeared that Killian would be such a man. “I’m afraid you’ll have to give me more of a clue than that,” he said evenly. “Whom are we talking about?”

“Emma,” Killian said, his voice breaking on her name.

“Don’t tell me she’s missing,” the man said, his mouth making tsk noises. “She has court next week. Ms. Blanchard will be out her bail money.” He sighs and brushes the surface of the counter with a clean dust rag. “Such a shame.”

“You know where she is,” Killian challenged. The man was too calm, too practiced.

“If I did, I wouldn’t go around spouting it,” he said. “We would have to have a conversation about what you have and what I have, but I know you. You have nothing that I want.”

David stepped up to the counter, his face determined but less wild than Killian’s. “What if we had something you wanted.”

“People claim that, but it is rarely true,” the older man said. “I don’t know of a thing you could have that I would want.” He scrubbed at some unknown and unseen stain. “Now if you’ll excuse me. It is past closing time.”

“What about Belle?” Killian asked. “What if I could deliver her to you?” He watched for a change in the man, a flicker of recognition or understanding. He saw nothing until the man’s head raised slowly.

“What do you know of Belle?” he asked, his voice losing the cool façade. “What do you…”

“So are we having this conversation?” Killian asked. “Because I don’t like to waste my time.”

**_Review?_ **

 


	44. Chapter 44

**_A/N: This chapter was one of my favorites to write, but I will warn you that it jumps quite a bit between all the action. I do offer a little explanation at the end if you have questions about why something happened._ **

In the small stretch of time she had spent in Storybrooke, Emma had come across Regina more times than she ever had in Mist Haven. The shadow of the Evil Queen’s reputation had been over her all her life, but she had been shielded from the reality by her parents. But there she stood in front of the woman, seeing that cold expression that was essentially unreadable.

“They are looking for her,” Graham offered, his hand tight on Emma’s shoulder. “I didn’t want…”

The woman’s brown eyes snapped from evaluating Emma to his pained expression. “Did you tell them?” she asked, laughing a bit as his color faded. “Of course not. You weren’t allowed to blab my plan, were you? And it kills you.”

Emma wrenched her neck to look at Graham, her mouth straining against the gag. For the first time since she had seen him in the car, she realized that he did appear contrite and not just at being seen by her. There was a pallid color to his face and dark circles under his eyes, his limb trembled and he was swallowing hard as if there was not enough moisture in his mouth. She heard in his apology again in her memory. She could say nothing back to him.

Regina groaned with impatience, opening the door to the crypt. “Take her in there,” she said. “I’ll be behind you.”

Graham looked at the darkened space, blinking as he regarded the emblem above the door. Recognition clouded over his expression and his hands balled into fists. “You mean to kill her?” he asked, his voice barely audible but still registering with the two women. Emma took a small step back.

“I meant,” Regina said, the frustration and impatience now more evident, “to hold her at the hospital. However, I have heard that you and her friends have made that plan unreliable. We’ll chat about where the young woman you stole from there is soon. Don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten anything.” She grimaced at Emma. “Take her in there, now.”

Graham’s hand slipped behind Emma, his fingers settling over the restraints. “She’s supposed to break the curse,” he said, his voice unsteady yet firm with meaning. “You know that. You knew it when she arrived.” His eyes narrowed on the woman. “I have to do as you say, but you know that she could destroy you. That’s what all this is about, isn’t it? You’re afraid of her.”

Anger flashed in Regina’s eyes as she stood with her feet firmly planted and her hands balled at her hips. “I’m not fearful of anything or anyone, Sheriff,” she said, bitterness dripping from her words. “She’s a minor inconvenience. A bug, one I intend to squash.” She studied him, the way he was letting his eyes wander over to Emma and the way he was trying to say something to her without words.

“You care for her, don’t you,” she said. “You care for this little princess?”

***AAA***

The bile rising in his throat was reason enough for Killian to attack the man across the counter. There was nothing hurried in his movements, no sense of urgency as he reached under the counter to retrieve a vial of some liquid that Killian and David didn’t even recognize.

“I don’t know what your game is, Mr. Gold,” David said, using his shoulder to brush past Killian and lean dangerously close to the other man. “But know this. If you don’t help us, we’ll make sure that you never see Belle again.”

“It’s a little early for threats. Isn’t it David?” Mr. Gold sneered and then replaced that show of emotion with an ambiguous expression. He held up the vial of colored but translucent liquid, letting it catch the light of a nearby lamp. “This is a potion or at least it has the potential to be. As you know we have no magic in this realm. Isn’t that true, Killian?”

David managed to look at Killian, but he could not hide the confusion on his face. The talk of realms and magic seemed too fanciful for the situation. They were talking about a missing woman, not a fantasy or science fiction movie. He shook his head in the confusion and looked back to the vial. “What the hell is that?”

Gold did not answer him, looking pointedly at Killian. The darker haired man let his eyes drop from his gaze and rocked back on his heels, letting go of the counter. “Magic is possible here,” he said in a non-committed answer that made the Dark One chuckle in amusement. “I’ve seen it.”

“Yes, Emma is a remarkable woman,” he said, swirling the contents of the vial like a fine wine. “The product of true love would have to be, you know.”

David made a frustrated sound and banged a single fist against the counter, almost cracking the glass. “You can’t just tell us where she is?”

The imp’s face did not change expressions as he looked from the vial to the other man. “I don’t know where she is at the moment,” he said, as if that was to be an expected answer. “I only know that Regina plans to lock her up. You see. She’s early. She wasn’t supposed to arrive here for another four years. It’s thrown everything off track.”

David pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and sighed. Killian would owe him an explanation, he decided. “This conversation is fascinating, but we’re wasting time. What do we do to find Emma?” David growled. “I don’t want to hear about potions or spells or being four years too early. I want to find Emma.”

The man behind the counter glowered knowingly. “First, you tell me about Belle,” he said, pocketing the vial in his suit jacket. “She’s dead. There is no way…”

“Death is a funny thing,” Killian answered, attempting to out vague the villain. “She’s been locked away by Regina. We rescued her. Now you claim that Regina wants to do the same to Emma. I think we have a little time for a deal.”

For a brief moment surprise crossed the imp’s face, “If you have my Belle, then we certainly do,” he said, his mouth twisting grotesquely. “But I warn you that my ability to assist is limited. Let me share this with you. Regina has no power here. No, power except over a heart.”

Again David looked confused, glancing at the man beside him for some sort of confirmation. His flannel shirt seemed woefully inadequate as a coldness rushed through him.

“Graham’s heart,” Killian said with sickening realization. “She’s making him do this.”

“A queen rarely wants to dirty her own hands,” Mr. Gold offered. “She wouldn’t want to do it herself, as she is a woman who lives for power. That’s what magic is to her – power. Without it, she’s not confident enough to do this. Not truly.”

Killian fell forward again, bracing his hands on the edge of the counter and letting his head roll forward to stare at the planks of wood below him. “Where?” It was just a one word question. Simple. Direct.

“Where’s Belle?” The other man’s question as just as simple and direct.

“Outside,” Killian said, his voice hoarse. “Where is Emma?”

Gold took a step to the left, attempting to circle the counter toward the door. “If she’s not at the hospital,” he said, his voice losing some of its edge, “then she’d be where Regina stores her tools. Her crypt.”

Killian looked up, seeing almost sincerity on the man’s face. “David,” he said hoarsely. “Go to the door.”

David followed the command, still unsure what this all meant. He pulled back on the door, the sound of the tinkling bell shattering the uneasy silence of the room. He kept his feet inside, leaning forward until he saw her and was able to say something so low that neither of the men inside heard.

“If you’re lying,” Mr. Gold said, eyeing Killian carefully. “I’ll destroy you.”

Killian only nodded, hoping that the man had not deceived them. But when he heard the audible gasp upon Rumpelstiltskin seeing Belle, he could feel the air in the room change. The man who had seemed so cold and calculating a moment before was holding a trembling woman in his arms. He even looked as if he might shed a tear at the reunion. The lieutenant said a silent prayer for Belle, but was unable to hold back any longer.

Grabbing David’s arm, he pulled the man through the open door as he heard the voice of Mr. Gold thanking him through cracked words.

“Lieutenant,” the man said, making Killian pause. “Don’t underestimate Regina. She’s not to be trusted.”

“And you are?” Killian asked, his eyes shifting to the door as he thought again that they were wasting time. “You are better?”

“She took who you love,” he said. “I can’t promise that Emma is safe, but think about it. You can’t run into this whole thing without a plan. It’s foolish.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Killian almost whined as David held him back by his arm. “What do you think I should do?” He spat out the words, seeing a softness in Belle as she looked toward the man she stood with and he wondered if it was true that Rumpelstiltskin was actually being honest about the situation. She did not seem to fear him, though he knew she remembered very little of him.

“Her child. You need to get the child as a bargaining chip. It will…smooth things over.”

***AAA***

“People in this realm think that emotion comes from the heart,” Regina said, pointing her flashlight inside of the structure as a gesture for him to move Emma inside. “The truth is that it is just a muscle, an organ that pumps and sustains. But we’re not from this realm are we?”

Graham pushed Emma forward, his hand still on the seam of the tape at her elbows. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Your opinion isn’t important.”

Emma felt the coolness rush into the room, her knees weakening as she was pushed to kneel. Regina was pacing the tiny space, a plan clearly formulating in her mind. Her hand was steady as she shoved a dagger at him, smiling sweetly at his confusion. “I wasn’t going to do this. I thought that just locking her up would be okay. But you’re right. They’ll keep looking for her. So it’s best to end it. You’re going to kill her. And you going to cut out her heart like you should have cut out her mother’s.”

Graham’s hand wrapped around the sharp blade of the dagger, feeling the metal bend his flesh. “Her mother?”

Smugness radiated off of Regina, her eyes glowing with it. “Snow White,” she said. “You read the book. You know the story. This is her daughter, Emma. Isn’t that poetic. This woman would not even exist if you had done your job back then. Now you get the chance to correct that. Take care of her.”

Emma leaned back against the stone edge of the pillar, the roughness cutting her skin. She rubbed her restrained arms against it, slowly but furiously hoping not to gain the attention of her step-grandmother. She could tell that Graham was fighting what she was telling him, struggling for his own control. She had only moments before he could not do it any longer. He would have to do as she said, carry out her plan because that was all it was. A plan for her puppet.

***AAA***

Liam stood in the foyer of Regina’s house, Mary Margaret by his side. “I’ve seen palaces, but this place…”

“She’s not one to skimp on luxury,” Mary Margaret said sourly, looking up the dark staircase and to the dark alcoves around them. “This place looks empty. Now what?”

“Killian and David said that Regina had left the baby with that Ashley woman,” Liam said, running a hand through his unruly curls. “I would wager that she heard us coming in and hid herself with the lad. Now the question is where.”

“There are way too many places to hide in here.”

“Aye, but we’ll find them. Thankfully, the mayor was not too worried. She did leave the door unlocked so we have that as an advantage.” He took several steps toward the staircase. “Shall we split up? We might make quicker work of it.”

Mary Margaret pulled her coat a bit tighter, glancing upward at the high ceiling and wondering again how this all seemed to be happening so fast. “I don’t think I understand why we are here. We’re going to kidnap a baby?”

The naval captain shrugged a bit, opening the coat closet and finding no hiding babysitters or babies. “If it makes you feel any better, Emma has ascertained that Regina came by that baby quite illegally. Killian and David said this was needed to help Emma.”

“That doesn’t really help here. Ashley’s probably scared to death. That can’t be good for her in her condition.” The brunette shook her head as if to rid it of the thoughts of guilt tumbling around in it. “Fine, we’re kidnapping a baby for Emma. Where should we start?”

***AAA***

Emma’s heart almost stopped at the sound of the phone ringing, its melody reverberated off the walls of the hollow structure. “Damn it,” Regina hissed, looking down at the phone with a frown. She spent a split second in a hesitant state before she screamed at Graham. “Finish Emma now.” Backing away, she headed out into the foggy cemetery, closing the door behind them.

She looked up at the man standing there broken in front of her. She could see his pain so evident on his features and the way he held the dagger as though it was poison. “Graham?” He probably did not understand her through the gag that muffled her voice. But it made him pause anyway.

“You’re her daughter,” he said, as though this was the last answer to a puzzle that he had been working in his mind. “You’re Snow White’s daughter? You never told me that.”

She nodded. He reached out and pulled the material out of her mouth. “Thank you,” she said, licking at her lips to stop the dryness. “Thank you.”

“Stand up,” he said, his voice ragged and his breath hot as he pulled her up by placing both hands under her arms and lifting. He looked at her, his eyes seemingly blank with some vision that was not there. She trembled under it. “Snow?”

Her muscles screamed with the tearing from her arms’ position and restraint. She said nothing, not knowing what it was he was seeing or experiencing. Glancing to the door, she saw it was still closed. Even if she could somehow move away from him, she could not open it with her arms in this position.

“Snow?” She simply nodded yes, hoping it would stall him. It did. He regarded her with some fear and pulled the dagger up into the air away from her. “You must run,” he said a bit too calmly.

With a swift flick of his wrist he maneuvered the dagger through the duct tape that bound her elbows and wrists. He shoved the dagger back into his pocket and sighed. “I don’t understand,” Emma said, unknowingly echoing her mother’s words back in the Enchanted Forest. “You’re not going to kill me?”

He crumpled downward, the heels of his hands on his eyes. “Run!”

***AAA***

David had barely pulled the truck in behind the police cruiser when Killian’s feet had already hit the ground. The naval lieutenant ran around the car, finding the back passenger door open and dome light now out. He frowned deeply, lines setting in his face as he looked at the car’s floorboard. There amongst the shadows was her bag. He reached for it, the heaviness bringing to mind a conversation about it they had recently had over breakfast.

He looked at the canvas tote, its contents barely contained. His fingers touched the thick book she had bought at the pharmacy, a mother and father with their well swaddled newborn on the cover. The smiles and hugs so familiar. The sound he emitted was pure anguish.

“It’s not a surprise,” David said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We knew he had her.”

“Where is her crypt?” he asked, ignoring the placating words.

A shadow had passed over the moon and David looked blankly in several directions before he saw a flicker of a reflection. “This way,” he called, running ahead toward the marble structure.

Killian saw her hair first, the blonde locks glowing in the moonlight. He screamed for her. “Emma!”

In a flash she was in his arms, muttering something about her mother and Graham against the shoulder that is now wet with her tears. She groaned as her muscles again tore with agony as he pulled her even tighter to him. “Hey,” he said, pulling her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her. “It’s going to be okay. You’re here and safe with me. I promise.” Emma nodded without a word. “I love you, my princess. I’ll never let anything happen to you. I’ll never leave your side again.” “It’s not your fault. I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t realize she was controlling him.” “In a way, it is,” Killian said. In so many ways, he added to himself, chastising himself for having not protected her. He held her as she cried out her pain, confusion and fear of the situation, silent tears flowing from his own eyes. When he felt her settle, he slowly released her from his arms, only to catch her with his eyes. He stared intently at her, forcing her to hold his gaze. “Are you alright, love? You and the baby?”

She nodded. “He didn’t hurt us. He thought…He didn’t hurt me or the baby.”

Killian was about to say something else, ask another question when he heard the surprised breath from David. He let his gaze fall from Emma seeing the shadow become clearer as he realized that Graham was stumbling out of the crypt. His gaze trained at the edge of the woods where a woman stood with a red glow in her hands, a cry of anguish echoing off of him. The woman snuffed out the glow, letting the dust pass through her long fingers.

Emma threw herself toward him, screaming out his name as he fell to the ground. The last breath had already left him before he hit the damp dirt below him. She erupted in a new fury of sobs as his unseeing gaze stayed upward at a moon that saw nothing either.

Killian ran after the shadow that had been at the edge of the woods, coming up empty in his search. He trudged back to find Emma still on her knees beside the fallen sheriff with her father at her side. She was rocking back and forth, her sobs strangled as she was holding them back in her throat and her father’s words muffled as he held a hand on her back and the other on his phone.

“Is he?” Killian asked, crouching on the other side of the lifeless form.

David cleared his throat, pushing himself up to standing. “Mary Margaret just called. They found the baby and Ashley, but there is a problem. We need to go.”

Killian nodded, rounding over to lift Emma into his arms. She went to him without protest as he carried her, one arm under her legs as the other supported her back, and followed David to the truck. David paused a moment and pulled Emma’s bag out and placed it in the cab of the truck, allowing Killian to sit in the passenger seat and Emma to sit in the middle half on Killian’s lap. She was nestled into is chest, her face buried against his neck and her hands fisting the material of his shirt.

David could hear them whisper though he could not make out the words. He felt as if he was intruding, watching the way that Killian smoothed her hair and the way he would occasionally look at her with eyes that clearly said he was in awe of her. Driving as carefully and smoothly as possible, he gave another glance to the couple and saw that her eyes were now closed and Killian was busily stroking her back.

“I’m glad she’s okay,” he said. “You two deserve a happy ending after everything that’s been going on around here.”

“I don’t think I do deserve her,” he said, head thrown back on the truck seat neck rest. “She deserves so much more. So much better, but I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to prove that I do. Maybe someday I will.”

“I hope so,” David said, wincing as he looked at the clock on the dash. “Mary Margaret said that they found Ashley and the baby. Ashley’s in labor and things are a little crazy.”

“Aye, that appears to be the normal station in Storybrooke,” Killian answered, adjusting Emma’s weight in his arms. “And Graham?”

“We’ll send someone to take of him,” he said. “I just think we need to get everyone back together and regroup. Mr. Gold might be a liar, but he was telling the truth about Regina. This isn’t over.”

**_A/N: I have stayed quiet when some people have asked what my plans were for Graham. I never intended for him to live, as I think his death was an important moment in season 1. I did take some liberties with it. I wanted Emma to know and see who killed him so I wrote it this way._ **

**_Yes, Regina had his heart. He was under her control. However, when he was left alone with Emma and had just been told to kill Emma, he was seeing Snow. He was having a flashback. So the whole heart control thing didn’t work on him. He thought he was letting Snow run instead of Emma. This way I was able to give him one last heroic act before he died._ **

 


	45. Chapter 45

Mary Margaret held the small infant against her chest, staring down into his bright eyes and cherub cheeks as she rocked slightly in what she hoped was a soothing motion. She was not really used to this, she decided, though the feel of caring for someone else did come quite naturally to her.

“They said it will be any time now,” Liam said as he sank into the waiting chair across from her. “How they can predict these things, I don’t know, but that’s what they said.” He placed both palms against either side of his forehead, fingers hiding beneath the curls and groaned. “People claim this is a sleepy town. I don’t quite know what that means, but I would assume quiet and calm would be a part of it. I was wrong.”

The teacher smiled down at the baby’s fluttering eyes, his need for sleep and fight against it obviously coming to a head. “He’s adorable isn’t he?” she asked. “And smart too, I think. He’s got that look about him.”

Liam opened his eyes, seeming to realize that she was holding the baby that Emma was convinced was somehow her baby brother. Mother and son, he thought to himself as he placed his palms on his knees and leaned forward. “Did you say that David and Killian are bringing Emma here? I should go meet them.”

He stood up slowly, stretching the tight muscles as he circled the row of attached chairs and headed toward the exit with a slight limp from having run himself ragged carrying the laboring Ashley and trying to calm Mary Margaret well enough to care for the mayor’s young charge.

“Brother,” Killian called out, waving a bit wildly as though he had not seen him in a week instead of a little more than an hour.

Liam smiled warmly at Emma, tipping his head in both respect and relief. “You look to be well, Emma,” he said, clapping his brother on the back jubilantly. “I trust that you are?”

“Yes,” she nodded, her eyes showing a different story as Killian dropped a quick kiss on her forehead and heading over to the nurses’ station to exchange a few words. “He’s dead, Liam. Graham’s dead.”

He could see the pain and regret carved on her face as she wrapped her arms around herself. Shooting a glance toward Mary Margaret, he saw that David had already taken a place by her side. The two were talking softly, the woman’s eyes never leaving the infant in her arms. He gave them a sad smile. “They seem natural with him.”

Emma’s sad smile matched Liam’s own. She swayed a bit as Killian stepped closer. “I think perhaps we should get you seen to, love,” he said, supporting her with his hand under her elbow. “We have to be careful with you.” She closed her eyes and frowned. “I know you hate being take care of, but I insist this time. You may yell and pout later.”

She again sighed loudly. “If you insist, but I am well and so is…” She broke off and looked between the two brothers. She risked locking her eyes with Killian for a moment.

“I think it might be unfair to have discussions in front of the good Captain without cluing him in to our meaning,” he said. “So let’s have you looked at and then we shall talk to my brother.” He led her down the hallway to a curtained off exam area where a nurse was impatiently waiting on them.

***AAA***

“He seems to be a happy baby,” David remarked, sipping on a paper cup of the bland and stale hospital coffee. Liam and Killian had both warned him it was a mistake to drink it, as it was a running joke among the hospital staff. “You’re good with him.”

“I guess sometimes it is better to be lucky than good,” she said, adjusting his blanket to so that it no longer covered part of his face. “I can’t say I know that much about babies. If he was in school, I’d be better equipped.”

David gave a chuckle, his eyes shining. “Your roommate seems to be doing better. I was pretty worried when we found her. And after the sheriff died, she was pretty distraught.”

Mary Margret lifted her eyes toward him. “You guys didn’t say. How did Graham die? Was he shot? What happened?”

Blinking in return, David opened his mouth twice before he spoke. “I don’t even know,” he stated with shock evident. “Emma ran toward Killian. Then I heard him leaving that crypt. There was a scream and then he was on the ground. I never heard a gun. I never saw anyone hurt him. It was just…over.” David took another sip of his coffee and scowled. “There was something off to the side in the woods. Red and glowing, but then it was gone too. I really don’t know what it was that I saw.”

Mary Margaret’s distressed expression turned back to the baby in her arms. “You mean…I don’t know what you mean.”

“Neither do I,” David admitted. Throwing his head back, he looked up at the foam tiles of the ceiling, seeing one a bit out of place. It bothered him. “I don’t know about you, but I feel like we’re missing something. Killian, Emma, and Liam all seem to know what’s going on around here. You should have heard the conversation at Mr. Gold’s shop. It made no sense, but Killian didn’t bat an eye. Speaking of which. Have we heard from Belle?”

Mary Margaret nodded. “I spoke to her earlier. She’s there with Mr. Gold now, but she said she was going to come back to the loft. I suppose someone should be there to meet her.”

David felt the buzz of his cell phone, but ignored it, pressing the disconnect button each time. “I could see to her, but I don’t know that she trusts me that well.”

“Emma’s probably the best for it,” she agreed.

***AAA***

“You’re sure?” Killian asked Dr. Whale for the eighth time. “They are both well. Are you sure?”

Emma sat primly on the edge of the exam table, attempting to ignore the pain in her shoulders, back and chest from awkward position she had been kept in for the past few hours. Her mouth was set in a firm line with no amusement as Killian appeared both frustrated and worried. She had already insisted that she was fine, even flapping her arms like a bird to show that she was no worse for the wear. He had insisted even louder that they were in a realm with what appeared to be thorough medical care so she would be seen to by professionals.

“Emma appears to be in good health,” he said, flipping closed the papers on the clipboard in his hands. “Nothing broken, no contusions or anything more than mild abrasions. And as for the baby, he or she is doing just fine. While we do refer to pregnancy as a delicate condition, most babies are quite a bit stronger than we give them credit for so we’ll be thankful that is the case.”

“Thank you, Dr. Whale,” Emma said tersely. She held her hand out to clasp Killian’s own hand. “I should also thank you for helping calm him down.”

The doctor shoved his stethoscope into the white coat pocket and stood up from his stool. “Emma, I am going to let you in on a secret. Men rarely worry that much about a woman. Take it as a compliment.” He chuckled and told her to hang out for a few minutes until he had a nurse come to release her.

“How’s Ashley?” she asked as he was half way out the door. “Is she truly having the baby tonight?”

“It would appear that way,” the doctor said with a sigh, ignoring hospital privacy policies. “I’m going to go check in on her now. I’ll tell her you sent your best.”

Emma leaned back against the table that was only partially reclined, her free arm shielding her eyes. “Nobody should have gotten hurt or killed,” she said mournfully. “We should have been more careful.”

He clasped her hand with both of his, tracing his thumbs over the soft flesh. “Don’t blame yourself, love,” he said. “The queen had his heart back home even. He was living on borrowed time as it was. It is not your fault.”

She closed her eyes, a tear escaping that was quickly wiped away by the back of her hand. She breathed in and out, expelling puffs of air through her drawn lips. She cracked one eye back open to look at him. “It’s not working,” she said.

“What’s not working?”

“My magic,” she said with a sigh. “I was hoping I could heal myself so I wasn’t in pain.”

He frowned, the lines of his forehead deepening with his displeasure at her words. “You told Dr. Whale that you weren’t in that much pain.” He looked at her accusingly, a small cloud of anger passing over him. “Why did you lie?”

“The book,” she said pointing with her foot. “It said something about not taking medication for pain. I know from both your brother and my father that Dr. Whale likes to give those things to his patients. I thought it might not be good so I didn’t dwell on it.”

“You think it better that you suffer?” he asked, his hardened lines softening at her tone.

“I thought if I could heal myself that I would not have to worry about making a decision that could hurt the baby.”

“Your health and wellbeing matter,” he said, looking concerned as his hand raked through his hair.

She did not appear to be convinced, but she looked down at her stomach for a moment, running her hand over the flat skin. “You truly think we should tell Liam now,” she said with a voice of authority, though he could see her cringe a bit. “I know it isn’t something we can keep secret long and…it isn’t as though my parents fully comprehend and well, that means your brother is the only other family this baby will have.”

“But you are hesitant?”

She squinted back at him, her expression one of someone who had just been discovered. “I suppose I’m a bit embarrassed to tell him,” she said, placing a finger to his lips as he went to protest. “I understand that this realm is very different in regard to these things. Just look at how Ruby is with everyone. I hate thinking that everyone will know of our private times.” She let her head fall forward, hair cascading down. He caught her chin with his fingers and lifted her gaze back to him.

“As you said, it can’t remain secret for too long,” he said soothingly. “And yes, people will know of our relations, but it is nothing I am ashamed to admit. I love you, Emma.”

“It is just such a different life here.”

“Love, we can postpone telling him if you wish,” he said. “Our child isn’t something I want to keep a secret, but it is your decision. Your father, for what it is worth, seems quite happy for us. However, that will probably change once the curse is broken.” Smirking, he gave a mock shudder. “I perhaps will need your assistance to run from your father. His vengeance might be a bit tough on me.”

“You’ll do fine. Just remind him of how ardent his support has been up until now.” She sighed again. “Perhaps we should consider telling your brother practice.”

The nurse brought in a few forms, asking Emma if she had any questions, and then letting the two of them leave the small exam room hand in hand.

***AAA***

“So there is no idea of where Regina could be?” Liam asked as they entered the darkened loft. “She just disappeared.”

“I doubt she has given up, brother,” Killian pointed out, his hand resting on the small of Emma’s back and his eyes darting about the room to sense any sign of danger. “She’s determined. Even the Dark One sees that.”

Emma looked at both brothers reluctantly, tugging at her jacket to remove it. “I feel like I should be there for Ashley,” she said, her lips pursed. “She’s going through this all alone.”

“Your mother is there, as is Ruby,” Killian noted. “And someone needs to be here at the loft for Belle.” His foot tapped impatiently as he looked about the room and wondered how to convince her to rest. It was certainly something he appreciated about her. She was so concerned with others, always seeking out a way to help them that she often disregarded her own needs. He was determined that she not neglect herself. “Anyway, I thought our conversation with my brother might be better here than in the infirmary.”

Emma’s color darkened, her hands fluttering as she placed the jacket on the rack that Mary Margaret had fashioned. “You’re not leaving us much of a choice,” she noted. “It’s like dangling a carrot before a horse. I would be rude not to allow a bite.”

Liam’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “I am quite intrigued, milady. You and my brother sharing a secret is something I’m quite interested in learning more about.”

Emma shook her head at him. “I thought you were concerned about your brother’s reputation. Now you’re smiling over shared secrets?” She teased him, a good sign, he thought. But he could not help but notice that her grin did not reach her eyes. She was clearly still morning the loss of the town’s sheriff though she had rebuffed attempts by him to talk about the man.

“I still have objections, as will your parents,” Liam said. “But that doesn’t stop me from being intrigued.”

“Objections aside,” Killian said, sitting next to Emma as she gingerly lowered herself to the loveseat. “I think you will want to hear this. Whatever your reaction might entail.” He clasped Emma’s hand, hoping that she would discard her fear and worry to be happy with him. He knew she was happy about the baby, having seen that the night before. However, it was clear she was worried about telling Liam and her earlier comments that her condition was a bit embarrassing to discuss.

Emma’s sigh almost sounded like a yawn. “Please proceed, Killian,” she said with a wave of her free hand. “You have teased your brother enough.”

“You want me to tell him?” Killian asked, his voice cracking as he considered the ramifications. He had not been in this position before, let alone in such odd circumstances. “Are you quite sure?”

“As you said,” she answered, leaning her chest against his forearm. “There should be nothing to hide between family. Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts after all this.” She smiled bravely though he knew she was feeling quite apprehensive.

“Well, brother,” Killian said, breathing in what he hoped to be courage. “You are to be an uncle. Emma is expecting.”

Liam blinked, his eyes narrowing first on Killian, then Emma, and then back to Killian. “You are saying this with a smile on your face, Killian. I am hoping this is some sort of joke.” His hands shot up toward the height of his shoulders with the palms facing outward and fingers splayed. “It’s not a joke, is it?”

Emma at least had the decency to look a bit upset, unlike Killian who looked proudly on at his brother. “I’m carrying a child,” Emma said softly, her eyes fluttering before locking gazes again with Killian. “We hadn’t planned anything.”

“And that makes a difference,” Liam said with a sigh. “Emma, I appreciate your lack of planning, if you will, but forgive me for being concerned for my brother. You have your parents love and respect or you will once the curse is broken. Killian isn’t in their graces. He’s not going to be seen as anything more than the man who sullied their royal daughter.”

“Brother,” Killian said, his voice a little less confident than before. “I love Emma. We’ve talked about this. Her carrying my child only makes me love her more.” He lifted their entwined hands as a show of his solidarity with her, holding the hands to his heart.

Swallowing heavily, Emma tried to smile at Killian. “My parents will understand,” she said. She wasn’t sure of that, but she had to say it. Maybe it was her mother’s influence to always have hope. “Yes, they will be disappointed in me for acting without regard to my responsibilities, but in the end they will see that we are in love.”

Liam grunted, turning on his heel and facing the exposed brick wall with the faded paint for some outdated advertisement. “Do you at least plan to marry her?” Liam asked. “I mean before the curse breaks. It might be easier for them to take this news on the heels of an elopement than to know no such plans have been made.”

“I would marry her tomorrow should she desire,” Killian said, again looking toward Emma. He felt his resolve falter at her wavering gaze. “But that is up to her. I won’t pressure her to do anything…”

“How noble,” Liam spat, shaking his head ruefully. “I can see that you are both happy with this development. Perhaps I’m being narrow-minded, but I can’t help worrying about my brother. Forgive me, Emma?”

“Of course,” Emma said softly, her eyes heavy with the need for sleep. “You care deeply for your brother. Perhaps someday you will see that I do too.”

***AAA***

Ashley labored for several more hours and Mary Margaret stayed in the waiting area with Ruby and David for company. She had teased her waitress friend that she was only there to catch glimpses of Victor, but Ruby insisted that she was not interested in reconciling with him. When Alexandra was finally born, Ruby bid the group good night and accepted David’s offer to walk her to her car. Winking at Mary Margaret, Ruby had already begun questioning the recent patient on his intentions and his plans for that upcoming weekend.

“She’s beautiful Ashley,” Mary Margaret said, looking at the wiggling pink bundle in the woman’s arms. “Absolutely lovely.”

“Thank you,” the new mother answered, a yawn escaping as she sank further into her pillow. “I’m sorry about before – at Regina’s.”

The dark haired woman smiled. “You were scared,” she said. I understand that. Anyone would have been.”

She only stayed a few more minutes, offering to come back with Emma in a few hours. She even managed to pay a visit to window shop in the closed gift boutique. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with you,” she said to the infant boy in her arms. “I guess I’m taking you home for a while, hmmm?”

“Killian wasn’t clear on the plans there?” David asked, approaching from the entrance. “I thought the Jones brothers had everything planned to the last detail.” He chuckled, holding out a finger to let the baby wrap his hand around the digit.

“I’m thinking Killian was more concerned with Emma,” the teacher answered with her own laugh. “And given that I don’t have a car seat, I guess I’m walking home tonight.” She cooed at the baby.

“Well, I can’t say that I can help with the car seat, but I couldn’t sleep right if I let you walk alone. Especially after what happened to Emma. So may I walk you back?”

Mary Margaret pretended to think about it for a moment, a smile breaking out on her porcelain like features. “You do realize I didn’t mean for us to spend this much time together tonight?”

“A perk,” he said, lips curling upward slowly. “I do have to say that next time we have dinner, I hope it is more relaxed and less crowded.”

**_Stay tuned for the next chapter when we’ll look at just what happened with Regina, the baby’s identity confirmed, and how does Katherine play into all this._ **


	46. Chapter 46

**_A/N: I hope you are still with me as we wind down this story. This chapter is a bit long, but I hope you enjoy it since it is a little more action and suspense (I hope). Please keep the feedback and reviews coming. I love knowing what's working and not working in this fic._ **

Mary Margaret couldn't say she was surprised when she found Liam sitting at her kitchen table, his head resting on his folded arms and a half empty glass sitting beside him. His boots were off, lined up with the footwear of his brother, Emma, and Belle. A lone light shone in the room, casting not much more than a few shadows on the exposed brick wall.

Belle was curled up in one of the chairs that looked more comfortable than it actually was in reality, a knitted blanket thrown over her and tucked into her sides. Killian and Emma had taken up residence on the loveseat, his head dangling over the back of the furniture and her head on his chest with their arms wrapped around each other so tightly that the teacher was sure she could not wake one without the other.

"Looks like you'll need a chiropractor in here if they've slept like that for long," David said, hauling in a crib that Ruby had procured from the bed and breakfast storage room. "None of them look too comfortable."

"The least of our worries," Mary Margaret answered as she took another glance around and led both David and Ruby back into her bedroom area to set up both the portable crib and the items that they had acquired at the only store open at that hour. "I'm still wondering if we have a plan for this little guy."

Ruby snorted back a laugh, her eyes flashing over to the slumbering quartet. "Your strategy team is currently drooling and snoring. Except," she let her gaze linger on Killian and Emma, "those two. Are they even breathing?" She dropped the bags of diapers, wipes, bottles and formula on the bed and dug into the purse she had over her shoulder to pull out a small compact.

"What are you doing, Ruby?" Mary Margaret shout whispered as the lanky brunette tip toed toward the sleeping couple.

Flipping open the compact, Ruby looked over her shoulder at her friend and placed a single finger to her lips. Holding the mirror under Emma's nose first and then Killian's, she rocked back on her heels and laughed. "They're alive. They fogged up the mirror."

David chuckled and knelt down to fasten the safety latch on the crib as Mary Margaret rolled her eyes and hissed for Ruby to quit fooling around. Shifting the weight of the infant to one arm, Mary Margaret began to remove the baby items from the bags and direct Ruby on where to place them. David again chuckled as the waitress called the teacher obsessive compulsive and questioned the need for so many things.

"I don't know how long we're even going to have the baby," Mary Margaret protested. "I want to make sure he's comfortable."

Ruby rolled her eyes, attempting to line the newly washed bottles next to the wine glasses. "That's my point. Why get all this stuff? You would have been fine with half this much. Better yet, why didn't you swipe some of the stuff from Regina's house? You kidnap the child, but you draw the line at stealing a pack of diapers?"

"I wasn't planning on doing this," Mary Margaret protested, her voice rising a bit louder than intended. She closed her eyes in the hopes that her voice did not wake the baby. "I was just following along."

"Tell that to the judge," Ruby said sardonically.

"It was a necessary step," Liam chimed in, his voice a bit gruff from sleep and his hands rubbing the weariness away from his face. "Regina has obtained that child illegally and we were rescuing not kidnapping."

Ruby turned briskly, her hair flying behind her and almost knocking over the two other bottles drying next to the sink. "Rescuing?" she asked, her hand on her hip. "I suppose you're going to go to the bank and rescue a couple of thousand dollars next?"

Liam stretched with a loud grown, fingers lacing above his head. "That's an entirely different matter," he said patiently, as though explaining to a child. "The child deserves to be with his parents."

"And who might they be?" Ruby challenged again, not giving up the fight. "Because right now you've got a child who doesn't belong to any of us and Mary Margaret's hoarding baby items."

Mary Margaret smiled gratefully at David who seemed to be able to ignore the disagreement and wrestle a fitted sheet onto the crib's mattress and place it ready for use. She lowered the infant slowly, letting him leave her arms for the first time all night. "Ruby, I get that you're worried about everything that's going on here, but I don't have any answers for you. Yelling about it isn't going to change the fact that I don't know what is going on or why this was necessary. I trust Emma and she trusts Killian and Liam. They said it was necessary so I'm going with that."

The long legged waitress huffed off toward the window. "I just hope this doesn't backfire."

***AAA***

The buttons of Killian's shirt had dug what she worried would be a permanent imprint into her skin, but Emma was reluctant to move from her position across his chest. There was a voice inside her that said she had a perfectly comfortable bed upstairs and Killian had one at the bed and breakfast, but the princess only slid her face over an inch to a smoother patch of the shirt's fabric and nestled herself back into his embrace.

"You should go upstairs," he muttered, his hand absently stroking back her hair off her shoulder. "It would be more comfortable."

She moaned, feeling the tight and searing pain of her torn muscles. "I'm happy here," she mumbled, her mouth half hidden by his shirt. "I was so scared I wasn't going to see you again."

"I was scared too," he admitted shakily. "Forgive me, but I'm not going to let you out alone any time soon."

Killian lifted his head with a mild amount of effort and surveyed the mostly dark room. Mary Margaret had left the lone light burning so he could make out the bundled masses that constituted their family and friends. She was of course in her bed, a crib next to her and her hand resting on its railing. Liam had fixed a pallet on the floor in a spot in the kitchen that Killian knew would lead to someone stepping on his hand or worse when they stumbled in for a cup of coffee. Ruby and Belle were sharing an air mattress, both wrapped tightly in individual blankets and their backs to each other as though facing off in some sort of sleeping duel. Even he and Emma had been covered in a quilt of some kind that he thought he recognized as the one usually decorating Mary Margaret's bed.

"It's a bit crowded down here, love," he said sleepily. "Looks like everyone is back."

Emma managed to lift her head to confirm his observations, smoothing back an errant curl as she did. "There's going to be a line to get anything done in the morning," she muttered. "Perhaps I should bathe now and avoid it."

"That's your first thought upon seeing this place so full that people have taken to sleeping on the floor?"

"I'm a practical person," she said with a light laugh, cringing when it strained her already sore muscles. "I'd invite you to join me but I'm in no condition to entertain you, nor do I want to risk sullying your stellar reputation. So I'll go alone." She laughed at his wink, slinking out of his embrace with a painful shimmy.

"Such images you put in my head," he said, still holding onto her hand with his. He pulled slightly and lifted himself up to kiss her firmly, his other hand finding its way to the back of her head. She deepened the kissing, moans muffled in each other. Pulling himself back, he smiled up at the image of her above him with her eyes darkened and her lips still parted. "You're sure?"

"Yes," she said, slapping his chest lightly. "Maybe we should think about breakfast for everyone. It is nearly sunrise. We could go to Granny's instead of trying to cook."

His smile quirked upward even more as he shook his head. "You already have that trait, darling," he said. "You want to take care of everyone, just like your mother."

She let her eyes flutter as she pulled away from him, her royal training for modesty taking over her briefly. She loved her mother and certainly recognized her mother's ability to organize and take care of the masses. From hearing tale of it, Snow White had always been that way, comforting injured animals as a child and caring for her friends and allies even when she was on the run from her stepmother. According to her father, it was one of the first things he had loved about her and one of the traits he had sought. She had hoped to be the same, loving and nurturing while brave and valiant. Her mother was all of those things, but Emma had always felt lacking. "I'm not like her," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "I wish I was. She's a leader. People respect her."

"You are more like her than you realize," Killian said, squeezing her hand before he let it drop. "You have not had to face the challenges she has faced, but that doesn't take away from your ability to love and care for people. I think you are quite the good leader."

She bit her lip, summoning up the courage to say thank you. It seemed harder to accept his compliment than it was to fight any battle. "Thank you, Killian," she said softly, running a thumb over his cheek. "And thank you for coming to rescue me. I know things didn't end as we had hoped…"

"I was only for you to return to me, love," he said, turning his face press his lips to her palm. "That was my hope. I wanted you to be safe and back in my arms. So I am grateful that my wish was granted." He paused, swallowing hard as he watched her tremble a bit. "I'm only sorry that your friend lost his life. I know he was truly a good man and did not deserve such an end."

She offered Killian a watery look of gratitude and pulled from his reach. Taking two steps backward, she turned toward the area where her mother slept and the bathroom beyond it. She could not help but smile at her mother's protective stance with her hand on the crib railing, even in sleep trying to reassure and comfort an infant who was probably a bit confused by new people and locations. Emma could not help but see herself in a similar position when her own child was born, unable to keep herself from caring for him or her even in sleep.

The baby in that crib was her brother. She remained sure of that fact, remembering clearly now the events prior to his birth. There was her mother's sudden and extended trip, her father's reluctance to say more. Both were clues that her mother had been pregnant. Her mother's statement in the letter that a treasure would be entrusted to her upon her arrival in a new kingdom also stood out. Could it be that her brother was supposed to be that treasure.

Emma stepped closer to the crib, wanting to see the baby just for a moment. She felt connected to him, knowing that it was more than just her imagination that had built the bond. She leaned forward to find an empty mattress and no baby in sight.

***AAA***

David had let himself out after seeing to it that everyone was comfortable and that Mary Margaret was well equipped to care for the infant. He had not imagined such a set of circumstances when he had asked to see the teacher who kept popping up in his mind. She had suggested dinner and he had readily accepted without regard for what else the night would include. How did one even end a night like that? For him and Mary Margaret, the night had ended with a quick hug and a few thank you mentions.

He probably could have spent the night, as quite a few people already were slumbering on available furniture and the floor. There was still an empty chair and probably even a bed upstairs that Emma usually slept in most nights, but he'd decided to be a gentleman and leave. He only hoped that it was not going to be construed as him being a coward.

Her friend, Ruby, had been the loudest and most persistent about the odd events of the evening. A missing person, a search party, the kidnapping of a child, and the birth of another seemed to be more than a little dramatic. But he was impressed with the way that Mary Margaret had kept her cool. She had voiced concern and worry, but still stayed calm and did what needed doing. It was impressive, he thought as he watched her cover her roommate with a quilt from her own bed and make sure that one of the guests knew exactly where the coffee and tea were located.

She was nurturing and kind, but that wasn't a surprise either. She'd read to him while he was in a coma, visited him more days than anyone other than the medical staff, and she had seemed genuinely happy when he woke up with no clue as to why. There was something about her, something sweet and even alluring at the way she did not just ask a question but listened to the answer. She was beautiful in her own quirky way, he surmised. She had striking features and a brightness that was rare in anyone. She was not as flashy as Ruby with short skirts and low cut tops. She was not as elegant as Emma, who always looked to be able to debut, though Emma clearly had a tougher exterior than she portrayed. Mary Margaret wasn't a delicate woman, as he could see her taking care of herself quite easily. She appeared delicate though with her soft features and complexion. He wasn't sure quite how to describe her, but was starting to feel that he needed to find out.

"You're out late," said a voice from the end of the hallway on the second floor of the bed and breakfast. "I almost gave up after you didn't answer my messages."

He turned slowly, the metal key to his door dangling in his hands. Part of him expected to see Granny there with a lecture about tardiness and propriety, but he knew better. There was his soon to be ex-wife, Katherine. There was nothing particularly delicate about Katherine's bird like features. The woman was attractive, but there remained a pinched expression to her that was almost disapproving of everything.

"There was no reason for me to answer," he said. "I was busy."

She nodded, skipping the part where she accused him of anything. "I just thought we should talk. You've hired a lawyer. You're filed paperwork. You moved out. You've done everything except talk to me."

"There's nothing really to say," he said, squinting to see her in the shadows. "I don't want to hurt you, but you have to realize this is the right thing. We weren't happy before this accident happened. You said yourself we had not been speaking."

"It was an argument," she said, speaking slowly as if he might not understand her words. "You almost died. Don't you see that it was a wake up call for me?"

He expressed himself with a half grunt and half laugh. "From what I hear you never even came to the hospital, Katherine. You never checked to see if I was there. That's not the sign of a woman who wants to make amends."

She sighed. 'I didn't know you were there. How could I? You said you were leaving. I thought you were gone. I thought you had started over."

He dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leaned back against the wall. "That's what I'm doing." He rocked forward on his boots and then fell back against the wall. "Let's not make this tougher than it is."

***AAA***

"Nobody heard anything?" Mary Margaret asked again, her voice panicked as she paced the small space between the kitchen island and the table. "There are six of us here and nobody heard anything?"

"I should think that anyone intent on stealing the child would know to stay quiet in the pursuit," Killian said, earning a glare from the brunette. "It would not make sense for him or her to come in announcing intentions and rousing everyone from their slumber." When no one came to his aid or defense, the man sank back in his chair with folded arms.

"I think it is safe to assume that it was Regina," Emma said, reaching hand out to comfort her mother with a gentle pat. "Who else would want to take the baby?"

"Who else even knows who the child is or where he came from?" Ruby said, rushing to the stove when the tea kettle began its whistling. "I guess people saw him at the hospital, but a kidnapper?"

"Mr. Gold knows the baby's origins," Belle said timidly, her gaze distracted from the others as she looked to the window. "Didn't he tell you," she pointed at Killian, "that the baby would make for a good bargaining chip?"

"Aye," Killian said. "He is the one thing Regina would want above all else. It made sense."

Mary Margaret threw herself into one of the wooden chairs from the dining table and folded her arms across her chest. "You were planning to use an innocent child to lure that woman into some sort of fight," she said accusingly. "Are you an idiot? Do you realize how much danger you could put us all in by doing that? Regina Mills is not a woman you mess with. She's had people thrown in jail who disagree with her."

"Or worse," Belle said in a small voice. "The whys and hows don't really matter right now. We need to figure out where she is and how we can get the baby back if he is truly in danger by being with her."

***AAA***

"Katherine," David said, his patience wearing thin. "I need sleep. You probably do too. Go home. We'll sort this all out later."

She pouted her lips, flipping the long blonde ponytail back over her shoulder. "I guess that means our lawyers will sort it out." She frowned. "Regina said you wouldn't listen to reason. She's been telling me that I should do something like tell you I'm pregnant. But I thought you would…"

"Are you?" David asked, his voice harsh. He reached forward and grabbed her by her wrist. "Are you pregnant?"

"No," she said, shaking her head vehemently. "I'm not. She just thought that if you thought I was then you'd listen."

He sighed. "Why are you listening to her? She's…" His eyes widened in realization. "When did you last talk to her?" Katherine didn't answer. "When?"

The blonde woman cringed at the tone of his voice, her shoulders slumped back and her fingers rubbed at her temples. "An hour ago. She was busy. She said she was too busy to deal with our marital issues right now."

David pulled his phone from his pocket. "Busy with what?" he asked, dread coursing through his every vein. "Damn it! Katherine! Tell me!"

The blonde woman looked honestly afraid as she stared back at him. "I don't know. She said something about picking her son up. I guess from the babysitter or something. I don't keep tabs on her."

***AAA***

"I don't get how he knew," Liam said as he walked briskly with his brother and Emma toward the sheriff station. "He wasn't there when the baby was taken."

"My father has always had a sixth sense about me," Emma said, fumbling with the keys she had not used since her last day of work. "I guess it applies to my brother as well. I fell out of a tree once. Nobody was around, but my father just knew I was hurt and came running. He's always done stuff like that."

Killian glanced over his shoulder at Ruby who was loading things into the teacher's car and Mary Margaret who was having a very animated discussion on her phone. The only one missing was Belle, who had agreed to return to Mr. Gold to ask for help. "Why are we here?" he asked pointing at the painted letters decrying the building as that of the sheriff. "That's the better question." Unlike his brother, Killian seemed to have no issue taking advice and orders from a woman, but he was still uncomfortable so long as he was unclear about the plan no matter the sex of the one in charge.

"If it comes down to it, we're going to have to fight for my brother," Emma said, sliding the key into the lock and turning gently. "This isn't Mist Haven. We need more than swords and bows. There are guns and other weapons here to help us."

"And nobody will notice they are missing?" Liam asked, the officer in him feeling unsure about lifting government property.

"There's no sheriff to miss them," Emma said with a sad shrug. He instantly felt cold for having asked such a thing and not remembering the reason they were going into this fight without the law on their side. He apologized quickly to her sorrowful sigh.

Equipped with what they needed, the rushed back to the two women and headed toward the directions David had provided. Nobody spoke until they stood with the tired but determined man and Katherine.

"What's the plan?" Killian asked, his hand rubbing along Emma's back in circles as each other women exchanged suspicious looks about the presence of David's companion.

Katherine looked a bit sheepish as she held out her phone. "There's a thing on Regina's phone, same as mine. It lets you track her. Someone stole her phone a while back and Graham had it put on there to help find it if it was to happen again." She took in a deep breath. "I sort of had them put on mine and David's phones too. Her phone is on so we were able to find her."

"Then where is she?" Emma asked, her eyes narrowed with confusion over all the talk about phones and tracking devices. "Where's the baby?"

David cleared his throat and pointed toward his left. "Best we can tell, in the tunnels. There are mines that run under part of Storybrooke. According to Katherine, there is a way out of town by using them."

"Tunnels?" Liam said incredulously. "But why leave that way? Her car is still downtown."

"They aren't wide enough to drive through," Katherine said. "But you can walk them. She's about a quarter of a mile in the best I can tell. Given that she has a baby with her, that should slow her down considerably."

Mary Margaret frowned as she looked toward the dark opening. Even with the sun beginning to rise over the tree line, they were about to walk into a darkened hole with very little to guide them. She pulled the flashlight out of her coat pocket, unsure when the last time she had used it before the night before other than occasional power outages. "Enough stalling. Let's go."

The trek through the mines was a relatively flat path, but Emma could not help but think of the cave where she and Killian had spent the night. Her eyes tried to focus, but it was difficult with such little light from the various flashlights and phones. "What I wouldn't give for a lantern right now," Killian whispered as they waited in line to pass through an area too narrow for more than one at a time.

"Wait," Ruby called out, holding out her phone to illuminate what appeared to be another opening veering off to the side. "I remember sneaking down here as a teenager. There's a shortcut this way."

While Mary Margaret and David eagerly followed the waitress with Liam and Katherine trudging along behind, Emma hung back, her hand clutching Killian's bicep. "She wasn't here as a teenager," she hissed in reminder of their situation. "Her memories are from the curse."

He looked at the backs of the others making their way through the opening and then toward the path they had been on previously. "It's not the best of solutions, but I dare say we should trust it. Their memories of a life here in this realm are as real as the ones we have of our own lives."

Emma nodded. "My father used to talk about how he broke the sleeping curse over my mother with a kiss," she said, still hesitating to follow the others. "He said that it was the key to breaking any curse."

"A kiss?" Killian asked, quirking his eyebrow at her. "Love, we have kissed many times and never broken any curse."

"I know," she said, shining the flashlight she had swiped from the station at the ground. "It doesn't make sense. My father always called it true love's kiss. He said that it had to be true love to break a curse. What if…what if what we have isn't that?" She looked away from him, her heart heavy in her chest. "I just can't understand why it isn't working."

"Love, I don't think this is the time to worry about it."

"But don't you see, it is. We have to figure this out because as long as the curse continues then my parents won't know they are my parents or the parents of that little boy. We'll all be stuck in this perpetual state of not really belonging to anyone or any place. Killian, we need them to remember."

He sighed, pressing forward through the passage with his hand reaching back for her. "I don't know the particulars on breaking a curse," he said frankly. "It is not something I have come across before, but I will defer to your father that the preferable way to break it is true love's kiss. Again, I'm not an expert on such things, but Emma, I do love you. And you certainly love me. Whether it's something highly ordained or just two people in love, I don't know. But I'm not going to question it and tear it apart for what it is not. You are my world, Emma, true love or not. If kissing you is the solution to this predicament then I would kiss you a thousand times over to make it so."

"I'm sorry," she said, looking awkwardly uncomfortable. "I suppose it is a bit much for me to ask. And your kissing me has brought about magic."

Killian smiled at her, hearing the footsteps of the others as they approached. He stopped short, realizing they had all come to a pause. He looked at David and Liam curiously.

"The phone shows that she will be coming this way any moment now," Mary Margaret answered for them. "We need to be ready."

The group stared at the dark opening, waiting, listening. Ruby remarked that she could only hear water, surmising that the wishing well was just a few feet above them and to the left. It was Killian who heard the hurried footsteps first. Instantly he and his brother sprang into position, each pulling a gun rather than a sword from their belts and taking aim at the doorway. Emma pulled the other gun from her own jacket, mimicking their posturing as she waited.

Regina swung around the corner, shock on her face when she saw Emma and the others waiting for her, but Emma's shock was more when she saw her little brother in the woman's arms. "Emma," she said, moving the infant so that he covered her torso.

"I'm not the only one here," Emma said slowly, stepping in front of her parents, Ruby and Katherine as she spoke. "I also think we can quit pretending that you don't know who I am or why I'm here."

"If you tell most of these people who you believe you are, they are going to think you're crazy," Regina said easing herself back against the cold of the wall. "They'll understand why I wanted you committed."

Killian swallowed, choosing to ignore the comment. "Give us the baby," he said quietly then clarified. "Give Emma the baby."

"Oh, you want your brother?" Regina asked the blonde woman. If the others noticed the relationship being established, they did not understand. "What if I don't want to give him to you? I guess we could trade. You get the baby and I get Emma so we can put an end to all this. Wouldn't that be fair?"

Killian felt Emma take a step forward and knew she would be willing to sacrifice herself for the small boy. He wouldn't allow it. "No deal," Killian took a step to the side to block Emma. "From what I hear you've ignored Emma her whole life other than threatening her existence to torment her parents. Why the interest in her now? Is it what she can do? Are you afraid of that?"

"I'm not afraid of someone like her," Regina protested, anger evident on her face. "She's not as powerful as she thinks she is."

"Killian may be on to something," David scoffed. "You're certainly afraid of something about Emma. What is it Regina? She threatens you?" Regina said nothing, but pulled out a gun, placing it on the side of the infant's head as she continued to hold up the boy with her other arm. "Oh, that's the way to show family loyalties! That boy has been raised as your son and you'd shoot him? You'd kill a family member."

"Shut up!" Regina screeched. "All of you shut up." The tunnel was eerily quiet with only the sounds of water breaking through the stillness.

"Give us the boy," Killian saw Regina's gun slow change from being aimed at the boy in her arms to Killian. She gestured with her chin toward Katherine. "Take him," she said as she released her grip on the boy, obviously hoping she could count on the loyalty of the other woman.

Mary Margaret scooped the child out of the blonde's arms, cradling him tightly against her. David nodded his approval as the teacher walked backwards from the scene, her only thought now of protecting the small boy in her arms.

"It's over," David shouted harshly.

"You think you've won?" the mayor asked calmly. "I can still kill each of you, starting with this one," she wiggled the gun toward Killian, "losing him would destroy the princess."

Killian didn't even flinch. "I am the least of my worries. The point is you will never hurt anyone I care about. You shoot me and my brother and Emma will kill you."

Fear engulfed Emma and she couldn't even think, she just reacted, stepping around Killian as the gun was fired. Liam watched Regina pull the trigger, the bullet careening through the air. Emma screamed, falling backwards into Killian; both of them fell to the ground without another noise.

**_Good news is this is the (maybe) last cliffhanger of this story. Last two chapter will be posted this week with an epilogue to follow. Any clues as to how the curse breaks?_ **


	47. Chapter 47

**_A/N: I hope you survived the cliffhanger. This chapter is a little calmer with more explanations, theories, and understanding. I hope you enjoy it._ **

****

**_I am very much overwhelmed by more than 250 reviews, countless follows and now more than 100 favorites. That has been a great confidence booster. From the bottom of my heart, thank you._ **

 

A look of shock fell across Regina’s face, which Liam used to his advantage as he ran to her, kicking the gun away and locking cuffs he’d found at the station on her before even bothering to look at Killian and Emma, who both lay unconscious in a pile on the dusty stone floor. Ruby had run to the couple, finding them tangled on the ground together, both of them bleeding. The bullet had passed through Emma’s shoulder and lodged itself in Killian’s.  
Mary Margaret held the infant close to her, averting his eyes from the pooling blood as Ruby and David searched for pulses, praying for a sigh of relief or a grin. She could hear Regina muttering beneath her breath in as she watched, unable to do anything at all for the two bleeding lovers entwined together.

 

A wind seemed to blow through the tunnel, slight at first then stronger and with a force and warmth that Mary Margaret was sure she had never felt before. Her eyes blinked as it passed her and she stared ahead at her husband and daughter. “David?” she asked, her voice unsure but echoing in the near silence.

 

He looked up from Emma’s crumpled form and saw her staring back at him. “Snow…”

 

Overcome with both the memories that were surging through her and the prospect of losing her daughter, the teacher began sobbing, the small boy still in her arms when she heard a quiet groan from the heap of the two. David smiled at her broadly and frantically began shouting into the small handset radio he had. Regina, kneeling on the ground, handcuffed behind her back, continued to stare at them. “Why? Why would she do that?” she muttered.  
“Because she’s in love with my brother!” Liam shouted down at her. She watched Regina shake her head and mutter something about not being the plan.   
“Emma!” Mary Margaret turned to see Belle rushing down the passageway towards them, a group of people behind her that seemed to be paramedics. “Emma?” she asked, crouching down next to the fallen woman.  
Paramedics went to work untangling the two, bandaging wounds to stop bleeding as they loaded them onto stretchers and carried them out of the passageway into the morning light.  
“Snow!” David shouted, squinting from the intrusion of the sun that was now much higher in the sky. He threw a glance to where Killian and Emma were being loaded into ambulances. She went to him, handing their son to him. “Liam and Ruby are going to ride with Killian. We’ll ride with Emma.”  
“They’re going to be fine, David,” she said, pulling herself up into white vehicle. “They’re both strong,” she said quietly, taking a seat at the head of the stretcher where she ran a free hand over Emma’s hair.  
“That’s your big sister,” David whispered to the baby boy in his arms as they rode in the ambulance. Emma laid on the gurney, a paramedic hovering around her, watching her intently. She looked too still, the only thing to prove otherwise was the faint fogging of the mask over her mouth as she breathed.  
“How did this happen?” Mary Margaret asked him, tears still wet on her cheeks. “She was supposed to be protected from the curse. So was he. Why didn’t it work?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m still trying to figure out how the curse was broken.”  
“Killian,” Emma moaned as she began to wake up, her hand reaching up in front of her.  
Mary Margaret knelt on the floor of the ambulance looking at her. “Emma? Are you awake?”

Emma pawed blindly at the mask over her face, her eyes fluttering open, locking with her mother’s. “Where’s Killian?” she asked, fear lining her words.  
“He’s in the other ambulance,” the woman answered, taking her daughter’s hand in her own hand. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Your mom and dad are here. We’re here for you.”  
“Why? What happened?” Emma asked, taking in her surroundings with her eyes searching each corner of the vehicle.  
David gulped, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Regina shot at Killian. You jumped into the path of the bullet to try and protect him.”  
“Then how-“  
“The bullet went all the way through you and into him,” Mary Margaret explained.  
“How bad?” Emma asked, silent tears streaming down her face. “Is he going to be okay? What about the baby?”

“Your brother’s fine. Look he’s right there,” Mary Margaret said, pointing to the wiggly infant. “I can’t believe you are both finally together. You’re a big sister. Quite an age gap, I know, but that’s what you are now.”

Emma shook her head, looking to David and then back to her mother. “No, the baby. I’m carrying…”

“Oh God,” Mary Margaret said, realization hitting her at the same time as a pot hole. She collapsed down beside the blonde patient. “I didn’t know.” Looking toward the paramedic, she sighed. “We’ll be at the hospital soon, sweetheart. I don’t know. We’ll be at the hospital soon, then we’ll know. Okay?” Mary Margaret saw the fear and panic in Emma’s eyes. “Emma, you need to relax. If you go getting yourself all worked up, it’s not going to help anyone.”  
“I can’t lose them both,” Emma sobbed, allowing tears to flow freely as her mother tried to comfort her.

***AAA***  
Mary Margaret stood in the doorway of the small waiting room, watching as her husband stared at nothing, clutching their son to him as the small boy slept. She remembered speaking to Ruby not too long ago before the curse had hit when their child had just been born and she was contemplating the ramifications of sending him via a portal to another kingdom. She had wondered if it was possible to save both of her children, assuming that there would have to be some trade off. Now she wondered again, was she going to have to lose her grandchild to keep her son and daughter. Logically it made no sense, but sometimes the universe felt like that.   
She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Emma and a nurse walking toward them. “Thank you,” Emma said to the nurse and then smiled at her mother weakly before taking a seat next to David. A daddy’s girl, she thought as the blonde’s head dropped to her father’s shoulder and he quickly rearranged himself to embrace both son and daughter. The blonde’s destroyed shirt had been replaced wit hospital scrubs and her arm was pulled tightly in a sling. Nothing was said by either of them as Mary Margaret sat down across from them, in the seat next to Liam who had sat with his face hidden in his hands.   
“Emma,” Liam said suddenly as if he had just realized she were there. “Are you alright?” he asked, the concern evident in his voice as he looked her over.  
“Yes, I’ll survive: just a flesh wound,” Emma joked dramatically, causing a smile to briefly appear on Liam’s face. She giggled slightly before turning serious again. “The baby’s fine and I know in my heart that Killian’s fine,” Emma said confidently, staring at the door to the operating room hallway.  
“What?” Liam asked.  
“Killian’s fine. I can feel it,” Emma said again, a wistful smile on her face.

“I’m proud of you,” David said, pulling her tighter into him. “You were really brave back there. Not the smartest girl to jump in front of a gun, but brave nonetheless.” He sighed. “And I don’t know how you did it, but you managed to break the curse while you were at it.”

Emma opened her mouth, about to speak some words to brush off his compliments when she heard the footsteps behind them. As a group they stared at the doorway, a smiling Belle and a stoic Mr. Gold standing there. “I do believe congratulations are in order. You managed to break a curse four years before you were to have done so and in a way that should not have worked.” The man leaned heavily on his cane and seemed to enjoy their confusion. “I’m sure you have questions.”

David frowned. “I’m not sure why we are supposed to trust you,” he said. “You were a prisoner of the crown at the time of the curse and you’re free here. I’m not sure how that…”

Belle touched the man’s arm and looked kindly at the people she had come to view as her allies and friends. “I asked him to come here,” she said. “He has some of the answers that you are looking to find so I thought it could be helpful. He’s not the dangerous man he was in the Enchanted Forest. The curse might be broken, but magic is not usable here.”

Shifting his weight, the older man looked at them with a measure of condescension. He studied Emma the longest. “You probably have the most questions, Emma,” he said with that smile that showed he was thinking of more than just altruistic reasons for being amiable. “You’ve been to my shop asking things that indicate you know things.”

“I have many,” admitted Emma, disentangling herself from her father. “How did the curse break?”

He sighed, glancing at Belle’s firm glance at him. “I’m sure you were aware that you are the savior and therefore meant to break it. Originally, the curse was to have you break it at age 28. It was written that way, but even the smallest of factors can change a curse of this magnitude. There are safe holds, if you will, things that make a curse breakable and fallible. For this curse to be cast, it took the thing that the caster loved the most. To break it, it required an act of love that was equal in magnitude.”

“Like true love’s kiss,” Emma said, raising her eyebrow questioningly. “But that didn’t seem to work. My magic did not work at all unless I was near the well. Even then it was pretty weak.”

“Most curses are simple enough to break,” the man said airily. “A kiss from one’s true love usually suffices, but in this case it was a bit more complex. You see there are many people involved. There are many stories. There are many repercussions of casting it. So when you factor in the concept that you were four years early in arriving here, it was going to take a much bigger act than just a kiss to free an entire town from the curse’s clutches.”

“A bigger act?” David asked, just as curious as his daughter. “What do you mean?”

“Simple,” the man said, already looking bored with the explanation. “Emma sacrificed herself for the good of everyone in that mine. She may have stepped in front of Killian, but she was protecting you all without regard to her own safety. That, my dear, is rightly an act of true love.”

***AAA***

Mary Margaret and David were finally convinced to take their young son, whom they admitted they had not even named prior to the curse, back to the loft. With a chuckle, the admitted they felt safe enough with both Ruby and Granny watching over an incarcerated Regina. Emma promised to come back as soon as Killian was out of the woods. As memories returned, residents of the small Maine town had flocked to the hospital and one by one Emma’s parents had addressed them and their concerns.

Thankfully, Emma had been able to sit quietly with Liam and avoid the fuss. Even Belle and Rumpelstiltskin had been moved along rather than continuing to add fuel to the fire that was burning inside Emma’s head.   
“Emma?” Liam asked, a few minutes after her parents had left. “I want to thank you.”  
“For what?” Emma asked, lifting her eyes from the 10 year old magazine she was thumbing through absently. A crumpled bag sat beside her, the remnants of a delivered meal from the dwarfs who had rushed to her side and demanded to know who was being punished for daring to hurt her.   
“You risked your life to try and save my brother,” Liam said seriously. “I know what the Dark One said about you saving everyone, but it was my brother you stepped in front of and that means a lot to me. He’s all I have left.”  
“Yes, well, it didn’t work,” Emma muttered, putting her face in her hands. “He was still hurt and he’s…  
Liam was about to respond when Dr. Whale entered, a tired but triumphant smile on his face. “Liam? Emma?” he asked, shaking his head. “I don’t know what you guys have against me and my getting some rest, but I finished with Killian. And, he’s going to be fine. The bullet did no internal damage, other than the muscles and we were able to extract it without problems.”  
“Why didn’t he wake up?” Liam asked, his mind seeing the way his brother had lain so still and quiet in the ambulance. Even with all the poking and prodding at his injury, the man had not woken up.   
“Slight concussion. He probably hit his head when he hit the ground. He’s fine and should be waking up in the next half an hour or so if you want to go wait with him.”  
Liam took a step toward the hallway, but stopped, turning back to look at the surgeon again. “Both of us?”  
Victor looked slightly confused for a moment. “I think he’d be upset not to see you both. And hospital rules be damned, his girlfriend tried to take a bullet for him. I think that should be worth a visit to his room.”

***AAA***  
He could hear voices as he pushed at his eyes to open, only to have them fall closed once again. “Emma?” he muttered, immediately feeling a hand slide into his own. He recognized the softness of her skin, the shape of her hand in his.  
“Brother?” Liam asked, his hand on the side of his head, leaning over him. “You awake?”  
“No,” Killian grumbled, his eyes still closed, but continuing to try to force them open. He heard his brother laughing.  
“Good to see you too,” Liam chuckled, his eyes crinkling in relieved delight.  
Suddenly Killian realized that she was standing there and not writing in pain in some hospital bed. “Emma? Are you well? The baby?” Killian asked, the same frightened tone that she had used earlier now evident in his voice too.  
“Open your eyes and see for yourself,” she replied, leaning close to him, kissing him gently.  
“No,” he grumbled again. “I’m having a good dream.” The two both laughed as Killian smiled dreamily, his eyes still closed.  
“That’s it, Killian,” Emma said sternly, her free hand on her hip and frown deepening. “Wake up.”  
Killian grumbled, opening his eyes, shaking his head furiously as he tried to awaken. “Very well, I’m awake. Anyone want to fill me in on what happened?” Kiam filled him on all of the details quickly as Emma watched him, grateful that he was fine. “So, the princess here tried to save me only to find out she’s too slight?” Killian asked, smirking.  
She pushed his good shoulder gently. “You had better watch be careful or I’m going to get big and fat and you’re just going to have to like it!” Her eyes danced with mirth.   
“It would make no difference, my princess. I’d love you anyway,” Killian said sincerely, staring deeply into her shining eyes.  
***AAA***

“He’s being released in the morning,” Emma said to her mother as she stacked the pillows on the bed just the way she liked them. “He insisted I try to get some sleep in a bed rather than the uncomfortable chair beside his bed.” Emma felt quite young there in a freshly clean gown and her hair crackling from having brushed it so long. Her mother’s gown was similar and her smile even more familiar than it had been before.

Her mother pulled back the blanket and smiled. “I’m glad to see that he is concerned for you and your unborn child,” she said, running a hand over the soft sheet. “I believe we have some things to talk about now that this curse is broken. For example, I’m very curious as to how you even ended up here when we sent you on the fastest and best ship in Mist Haven to another kingdom.”

Emma stifled a yawn, feeling the strain over the past few days take hold of her. “I suppose we have quite a bit more to talk about than a trip by a ship.” She reached her good arm out to let her hand touch her mother’s. “I’m sorry for the way I told you of my condition. I imagine it was quite a shock for you.”

“That would be an understatement,” the woman said with a gentle laugh. “And I suppose your finding out that you had a brother was a shock for you too. So perhaps you come by such dramatic declarations honestly.”

“I had begun to figure out his identity prior to the curse being broken,” Emma admitted. “That was why I was so determined to remove him from Regina’s hands. I wanted him safe and with his family. I never figured out why you hid his identity from me.”

Mary Margaret pulled the blankets up over her daughter’s legs, a move that earned her an eye roll and a smile from Emma. “When my step-mother made her intentions with the curse known, we knew that you were going to be the one to break it. Rumpelstiltskin wrote that in himself. What no one knew was that I was expecting another child. We didn’t want our children to have this burden of the curse and so we came to the decision that we would hide him. We thought that if you were safe in another kingdom, he could stay under your care until it was time for the curse to break.”

“But you didn’t tell me about him either,” Emma said, unsure how she would have found out about her sibling. “I would have kept the knowledge a secret.”

Her mother nodded, settling herself next to her daughter’s hip. “I trusted that you would. However, we, or I suppose, I thought it best that you not be burdened with that knowledge. I didn’t want our goodbye to you to be laced with more than it already was. Your brother was supposed to have been in the kingdom when you arrived, a note explaining this all with him.”

“But he arrived here, somehow?” Emma asked, confusing tinting her voice. “Do you know how?”

“He was intercepted,” Mary Margaret said. “I don’t know how. I only know that he was here.”

“I know you are happy to have him in your arms again,” Emma said, her smile genuine as the glanced at the railing around the loft, knowing that her father was downstairs with her brother in his arms. “I am happy to have my family back too.”

Mary Margaret smiled back at her daughter. “You’re different, Emma,” she said. “You were a wonderful daughter before, but going through this has changed you. You’re stronger. I can see that. You’re braver. You have been embracing your magic or so it would seem. And you’ve even opened your heart up to love. That’s a special thing. It is what I hoped for you.”

“We’ve had this discussion as friends and roommates,” Mary Margaret said, her finger tracing the hand sewn seams of the blanket. “But I’m going to talk to you as your mother now.”

“You don’t approve of Killian?” Emma asked, drawing in a breath in anticipation of what she assumed would be a fight. Her mother was loving and even tempered, but Emma knew first hand that Snow White could be venomous when it came to having her own way. At 13 Emma had dared to wear a green sash instead of a white one with a yellow dress for a luncheon honoring a neighboring king. Her mother had sent her away and told her to eat alone in the library.

“That’s a different question than do I like him,” the woman said, looking up from the quilt to her daughter’s anxious face. “I do like him, Emma. He cares for you so much, which is evident in how he behaves both around you and when you aren’t there. And as for approval, that’s a deeper issue.”

“Because he’s not a prince?”

Mary Margaret shook her head, eyes dropping back down. “Emma, your happiness is worth more to me than the title of the man you love. Yes, your father and I attempted to arrange a marriage for you to a prince, but only because he was a means to an end. He offered protection from the curse.”

“But he would have never accepted me,” Emma said with a shudder. “My magic became more and more on display during my time before arriving here. The prince hates magic. Everyone said so.”

A confused expression clouded her mother’s face as she regarded the statement carefully. “Emma, it is a moot point now, but who did you think you were to marry? Your father and I did not choose a man adverse to magic.”

“Prince Alexander,” Emma said, her own voice showing the confusion. “He’s known for hating anything magical and has banished it from his lands.”

Mary Margaret smiled warmly at her daughter. “Prince Alex,” she said, enunciating the name with strong clarity, “is not the same as Prince Alexander. I’m afraid you jumped to conclusions, but that is a whole other story.”

Emma felt her stomach drop that her mother still had not clarified her issue with Killian. “Then what do you disapprove of?” she asked. “Killian has proven himself, has he not?”

Her mother grinned. “In more than one way,” she conceded. “He may not have slayed a dragon or led armies into battle, but he’s got a good reputation in the navy and he’s certainly shown how much affection he has for you.” Lifting her hand from the quilt, she grabbed her daughter’s left hand and rubbed her finger across the empty spot where a ring would go. “He has not yet asked your father for permission to marry you, nor has he proposed to you.”

“The curse was only broken a few hours ago,” Emma said with a dramatic sigh as she fell back against her pillows. “You can’t expect him to have come out of surgery and immediately begun the process of asking for my hand.”

“Good point,” her mother said, laughing lightly. “I assumed that he would be eager since he has been very arduous so far. So I suppose I’m going to have to say I approve?”

Squaring off her shoulders and pushing her hair back behind them, Emma set a determined jaw. “Yes,” she said. “I hope you and father do approve, but no matter what you decide, I will still love him.”

***AAA***

Two of the nurses had referred to Killian as the nicest looking bad patient they had ever had the pleasure of treating. He was driving them crazy with his insistence that he was in fact fine and the fact that he had twice managed to pull out his IV – by accident. He’d also grown bored and curious – a bad combination – and decided to explore the buttons on his bed and the various remote controls. They were counting down the hours until he was just their co-worker and not their patient any longer.

Not long after he had suffered through worse coffee than even the waiting room or break room that next morning, he looked up to find a familiar face standing in his doorway. The prince, who managed to somehow look taller and more regal with his flannel shirt and dark denim jeans. Perhaps, Killian thought, it was the newly acquired and remembered knowledge of his royal status that put a stronger countenance forward. Emma’s father stood with his arms lightly folded and his shoulder resting against the open door appraising the naval lieutenant who was struggling with the clinging plastic wrap on a dish of gelatin.

“That stuff is made by the devil himself,” David said, holding up a bag from Granny’s with a wry grin. Killian looked confused by the gesture. “I know from personal experience that the food around this place won’t win any culinary awards. Granny’s may be grease laden and full of cholesterol, but it tastes good. Just stay away from the frozen lasagna.”

Killian relieved the prince of the bag and placed it on the bedside tray with a single glance at the contents. He watched the other man sit carefully in the chair by the bed and fold his leg so that the ankle of one rested on the knee of the other. “Thank you for the breakfast. I’m sure it will be more palatable than the items I have been served here. I’m a little surprised to see you, your highness,” he admitted, fingers circling the to go cup of coffee that was still hot enough that steam rose from it. “I thought you’d be at the loft with your wife, son, and daughter.”

David leaned his head back, looking pointedly at the man in the bed. “I wouldn’t think my visit would surprise you that much. My daughter and your brother should be here soon, but I thought we should have a chat before then.” His nose wrinkled a bit on the word chat.

“Yes, sir,” Killian said. While older and worldlier than Emma, he admittedly had few experiences with the fathers of the women he had come across in his life. He’d bedded a few, but never really courted one, much less impregnated one. And none were princesses. He felt rather young and immature staring into the face of a man who probably hated him at that moment.

“I’m afraid I don’t know quite what to say, as you have had the advantage over me for the past little bit. You have known who I was and probably assumed my reaction to your interactions with my daughter would not be completely positive.” The prince frowned slightly. “But you also have told me on more than one occasion just how much you love my daughter. And as disappointed as I might be in your lack of restraint, I do appreciate that my daughter feels the same about you.”

Killian did not realize he’d been holding his breath until it spilled out dramatically. “I am sure you had hoped for better for your daughter than a naval lieutenant.”

David gave a silent nod, not disagreeing with the man before him. “I am sure you can appreciate that her mother and I had many plans for Emma, including a royal wedding that would undoubtedly bind together kingdoms. However, we never intended that she only be a diplomatic liaison or some bargaining chip toward better relations between other royal families. Who she marries and what sort of life she leads is up to her.”

Giving his own nod of understanding, Killian smiled a bit more freely. “I feel the same way, sir. I must defer to her on our relationship and what we are to each other, as I can only speak for my feelings for her.”

David chuckled, bracing his knee with his hands. “You can drop the sir and your highness. It isn’t really necessary here in Storybrooke. And cursed or not, I have gotten to know you a bit better during this time.”

“Your daughter is much the same in that regard,” Killian said, fighting back the urge for the more formal moniker. “She detested my referring to her title or being formal with her.” His heart pounded a bit harder remembering her happy expression at the sound of him first calling her by name. It might have been improper or even disloyal to the crown, but he would not exchange that moment for anything.

“She’s never been one for propriety,” David confirmed. “So, Lieutenant Jones, should I expect you to ask to court her or even for permission to propose marriage? Or has your time in Storybrooke convinced you that she is far too independent for me to be so old fashioned?” He shrugged his shoulders and held up his hands in a gesture to ward off any answer. “When Snow first told me she was expecting Emma, I don’t have to tell you I was scared to death. I didn’t know how to raise a princess. And now I’m a man with the memories of a shepherd, a prince, and this new guy – David Nolan. And none of the three of us know how to do this. I’ve got a new son I’ve spent maybe a few hours with and a daughter who tells me I’m to be a grandfather. I’m not quite sure if I’m supposed to hug you, punch you, or challenge you to a duel over my daughter’s honor.”

“I may not be suffering with all those inharmonious memories, but I’m certain I have no knowledge of how to raise a child either – royal or not.” Killian gave a short laugh. “And for what it is worth, I do feel guilt over not having treated your daughter as you would have wished. I do hope you understand that.”

Voices from the hallway indicated that Liam and Emma would be arriving at the door at any moment. David pushed up from his seat with hands pressing on the arm rests. “I’m glad to hear that you aren’t overly confident,” David said. “I’m also expecting you to pay a visit soon where we can discuss plans and intentions as father and suitor. By the way, I won’t be challenging you to that duel unless you hurt my daughter. Instead, I’m going to hope beyond hope that the baby she is carrying is a beautiful baby girl who will cause you to give a side eye to every man who walks within 50 feet of her. That will be my revenge.”

***AAA***

Most of the day had been filled with conversations, discussions, and even arguments. There were questions about why the curse was broken but no one had returned to the other realm. Some people wanted to stay, enjoying their new modern lives more. Others were anxious to go back. Emma had taken herself to the side to watch her parents address the issues at hand. While she might have broken the curse, she was not eager to take on a more formal role in their court.

When Liam found her sitting and nursing a warm cup of tea, she had told him that part of her wanted a life at sea with Killian and their child rather than a stuffy title and formal declarations. He had laughed and reminded her that the responsibilities of a royal were not easily shirked and that his brother knew that well before he fell in love with her.

Emma had hoped that Killian would come to sit beside her, but everyone seemed determined that he rest. While she brushed off such things, Killian seemed to need the recuperation. The four times she had gone to his room to see him resulted in finding him snoring lightly. Though she longed to sleep next to him, she resisted in the interest of whatever tentative bond or truce had been forged between her father and her lover. It would probably hurt that bond if she was found curled into Killian’s side when no decisions as to the future had been made.

It was not as though Killian had not broached the subject of marriage. He had and even offered to marry her before the curse had ended. She had been the one to push the subject away, hoping that answers would be easier in coming when she felt more sure of herself and her position. Though he had worried she would grow to not be amused by his lack of a title, she had worried the opposite. Killian seemed to crave adventure and her role as a princess would surely stifle that.

She had decided that she would ask Killian and not allow him to distract her from an answer. Realizing that the long afternoon had fell into night when her mother fussed over her lack of an appetite, she wondered if she could sneak back up to his room and if he would even be awake. Emma had not even tasted the food as it went down and only smiled politely as Liam took a bag up to Killian.

“Would you like your father to drive you back?” her mother had asked, her hands gripping the stroller and foot ready to release the brake. “If you don’t feel up to walking, it would be best. I should have sent you ahead already.”

Emma brushed a few errant crumbs off the front of her shirt. “I thought I might go upstairs,” she said, blushing as her mother’s face registered realization as to what that might mean. She pushed past that feeling, knowing that she was still wearing a sling and he was feeling the effects of pain pills. “Just to talk.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” her mother said, flinching when David chuckled. “Maybe he will feel up to sitting outside to chat with all of us tomorrow.” Satisfied with her answer, the teacher threw her bag over her shoulder and pushed the stroller toward the door. “Emma?”

David rubbed his hand along a circle over Emma’s upper back. “I think the time for chaperones, public places, and propriety are out the window,” he told his wife. “Emma will call if she needs a ride home or she’ll see us in the morning. Either way, we’ll talk more then.” Dropping a kiss on the top of his daughter’s head before returning to push his wife toward the door, he silenced the mother's protests with a kiss of their own.


	48. Chapter 48

**_A/N: So this was supposed to be the final chapter. It turned out to be too long so I cut it in half and will post the other half soon. That will not be for a few days. I have a job interview out of town and will be traveling with my husband with very little internet access._ **

**_I hope you enjoy this chapter. I thank you again for your comments and encouragement, especially from those of you who have consistently stood by me during this fic._ **

Emma lifted herself from the top step to the landing, her hand holding the railing tight and a smile on her face as Liam shut the door to his brother’s room softly. “He’s still awake,” he said to her somewhat concerned face. “Fighting mad that I’ve threatened to run him through with a sword if he dares to get out of that bed.”

“I should take notes from you on how to be the older sibling now that I have a younger brother of my own,” Emma said, nodding appreciatively at the man. “I know despite his barbs and insults, Killian loves you very much.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Liam said, uncharacteristically appearing affected by the conversation. “Like I said at the infirmary, he’s the only family I have right now.” He rocked back on his heels and then forward again, insecurity evident. He looked modern in jeans and a faded shirt that was decorated with some band name for a group he did not even know. He wasn’t sure where he had picked the shirt up, but it was comfortable and he loved it.

Emma nodded, glancing quickly at the closed door. “I guess I should…”

“Go on with you,” he laughed. “I can guarantee that your lovely face will do more to heal him than mine.”

Liam pushed his way into his room without another instruction and left Emma to wonder if she should knock or just walk inside the room. It seemed silly. He was still just Killian. And she was Emma. They were the same as they had been the day before, but she felt so significantly that something awful had changed. Perhaps it was that it was her act to save him had been enough to break the curse. Perhaps it was the realization that their lives were cemented together. Or perhaps it was almost losing him that made her realize this was not just another friend or confidante.

Her hand hovered over the doorknob, her breathing uneven as she tried to tell herself that this was still just Killian. She was about to ball her fist up to knock when she heard his voice. “Quit hovering and come in before you change your mind.” She laughed, as of course he would realize she was standing out there.

“How did you know?” she asked, stepping through the doorway and closing the door behind her. “My footsteps?”

“Other than your father, who just left with your mother and brother, you and Liam are the only two who have visited. Liam would have just barged right in.” He smiled, looking moderately pleased with his deduction. Like Liam, Killian was outfitted more modernly than he had been earlier in their days in Storybrooke with a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt. His hair was messy on his head and his eyes, while still bright and blue, now seemed almost cloudy.

“So we made it simple for you by being predictable.” She approached his bed, regarding the tight corners of the sheets and the perfect crease of the blanket across his lap. Liam’s handiwork was evident, as was his military training. She sat down next to him, her hip touching his knee, wishing she wasn’t going to ruin the perfect image. “How are you feeling?”

His eyebrow shot up with a bit of wonder. “Quite a bit better, love,” he said, reaching out to take her closest hand. He frowned as it remained slack in his grip. “Love? How are you? How’s our child?” His voice rose a bit upon asking her of their child. It was something he liked to say and had a hard time hiding his affection for with her.

Her smile wavered. “I’m well and so is the baby,” she said. “The bullet did more damage to you than to me.”

“Aye,” he said. “I don’t wish to volunteer for target practice, but I am glad I bore the brunt of it rather than you, love. My physique will not be any worse for a new scar. You have an image to maintain.”

Her free hand reached out to first touch her injured shoulder and then his. “We have matching scars now, I suppose. Like puzzle pieces fitting together.”

“I don’t think that most would find that too romantic,” he said. “Perhaps morbid would be a better term.” He chuckled lightly, the pain in his shoulder stopping him fully engaging in the laugh. “You seem distracted, love. What is troubling you?” Like her mother had done with her, she began to trace the stitched pattern of his blanket with her index finger, curves and squares, crossed lines, and straight. He watched her for a moment, reaching out again to slow her hand. “Emma?”

“What is it you want?” she asked, her voice flat and emotionless as she could make it. “That should not sound so harsh. I mean to say, what do you want for the future. We have not really discussed it.” She frowned, knowing she sounded a bit needy, something she hated.

“I have only wanted you, love,” he said seemingly confused by the simple question. “I want a life with you and our child. What else could I want?”

With her hand unable to trace the pattern due to his grip, her right foot began to circle aimlessly. “I want that too, but how? What life do you see? Do you want to return to your ship? What about Liam? Where do we…”

“These are quite some questions for a man who has not fully regained his faculties, love,” he said with a smirk. “Are these from you or your father?”

“Me,” she said guiltily. “I was watching my parents today. They are so much alike and have common goals and ideals. We’ve had that too what with trying to end this curse and acclimate ourselves to this world. But what if that is all we had in common?” She worried over her lip, teeth grazing the plump flesh.

He had the audacity to smile at her, grin mischievously as she fretted with the idea. She wanted to slap him for it. “You seem to be one of those women,” he teased, “you cannot seem to be fully alive if there is not a challenge to overcome or a battle to fight. Is that you, darling? Is our life together going to be one crisis after another?”

“You think that I crave the drama of a fight?” she said, almost pouting.

“No, love, I don’t think you crave it. I think that you are a fighter. You have a good heart and want to right the wrongs and injustices you see in the world, no matter the cost to yourself. So I do anticipate having to watch you wage war on the opportunists and the dictators in order to bring about peace and prosperity. I would have you no other way so long as you remember that you have obligations to your family too.” He winked. “As for where or how we will live, we can discuss it all that you like. For as I said, I only wish to be together with you and our child. So be that in a wing of your parents’ palace, a hovel in a village or sailing the open seas, I will be perfectly happy at your side.”

She smiled at his sentiment then let the smile fade as she thought. It was a flaw that she was well aware of about herself. She overanalyzed and then still tended to act rashly without concern of consequences. She now had a broken curse and a new scar for her rashness. “But your career,” she said, holding his gaze a moment longer. “You have worked so hard and you are one of the youngest men to become an officer in the royal navy. Don’t you think that you should continue that path? I would wait for you.”

“You speak as though we are all about to travel back to Mist Haven tomorrow. There is no portal, love, and with no certainty of reliable magic, I should doubt that there would be one open soon.” A sharp pain in his shoulder reminded him of his injury and he closed his eyes to concentrate on easing it. “And I will miss the life of a naval officer whether I am here or there or some other realm entirely. For I have no intention of living a life apart from you for months at a time. As progressive as your parents and the kingdom may be, I am doubtful that they would find it appropriate for you to join the navy as a princess. And our child will be too young to do so.”

“But your career. Your ambition.” She seemed determined at that moment to show him that he was giving up something to be with her. It seemed preferable that he recognized that now rather than later when their lives were more combined.

“Will have to be fodder for stories I shall tell our children, especially of how I met their beautiful mother.” He again wrapped his two hands around hers and waited for her gaze to meet his. “Liam is the true officer in the family. I will enjoy his tales of adventure on the seas as we have our own adventures. For my dear, I doubt our lives are going to be too ordinary.”

Moonlight was intruding on the room through the breaks in the drapes and glowing along Emma’s skin. It appeared to make her as luminous as a pearl, eyes sparkling like gems, and her hair a golden mane. “You are certain?”

“Are you not?” he asked. “I thought we had been through this.”

She smiled weakly. “Forgive me,” she said. “You are in love with a woman who tends to think too much and consider too little. She leaned forward, her own muscles screaming in protest, pressing a kiss to his cheek and then meeting his lips as his head turned to her. “I love you, Killian. I want nothing more than a life with you either.”

***AAA***

As the weeks after the curse broke became more, Emma felt that her world was a perpetual state of the land in between childhood and adulthood. She was a woman, carrying her lover’s child and perfectly capable of living her own life. Yet she felt herself shrinking under mother’s judgmental gaze when she came home late or not until morning. She reacted the same under her father’s more bemused expression.

“You could move back to Granny’s,” David said one morning when he was looking over a few documents that Graham had left behind. No one was quite sure on how to handle the jobs of Storybrooke, as without the curse it seemed unfair that so many were in such demeaning circumstances. David had told his former subjects to bear with him as he sorted things out and asked for their help in keeping the town running.

She looked up with a start, unsure she had heard him right. “Pardon?”

“It seems silly that you feel you must sneak in and out of the loft,” he said. “You are a grown woman. In this realm, it is perfectly acceptable for two people to live together. Have you asked Killian what he wants?”

He had expressed his desires many times, asking if she might consider living there with him or even seeking out more a permanent residence. She had balked and said she was not having that conversation with her parents. When he suggested marriage it seemed to be without that formal request. She wasn’t even sure why, as her mother even expected the announcement any day. Mary Margaret had even started not-so-subtly begun to leave out advertisement photos of wedding gowns and cakes. But Emma flatly refused to look at any of them seriously until she was engaged.

“I thought you would expect him to ask your permission,” she said, shaking a bit of salt over her fries and then dragging one through ketchup before popping it into her mouth. “Though I’m not sure that is the custom here in this realm.”

David shot her a curious glance, his fingers dancing across a stack of papers and he searched for one in particular. “You’ve been thinking about it?” he asked. “Because I got the impression you were not sure.”

She appeared a bit sheepish, eyes darting away for something to change the focus. “He’s not asked exactly,” she said. “More like hinted.”

Reaching across and grabbing a fry amidst the grunted protest of his daughter, David chuckled. “A man doesn’t like to ask such a question when the answer isn’t clear.” The chuckle was a rumble, louder than before. “What would you say, Emma?”

“I would say yes,” she nearly whispered, again embarrassed and confused that she could say this to her father but not Killian. “I am scared of an uncertain future, but I would say yes.”

Like a good parent, he circled round to her, pulling her into his embrace as he questioned her fears. Thankfully he did not belittle them or reduce their significance. He tried to soothe her, pressing her to face her fear rather than run from it.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, smiling up toward her father’s concerned face. “I won’t run,” she said, hesitating before she stood back. “I don’t want to run away from him.”

***AAA***

“It’s a dress,” her mother said, holding out the cream and black fabric and cocking her head to the side to better look at it. “I think it’s perfect.”

“For what purpose,” Emma said, holding at her hips a small bouquet of flowers that Killian had given her during their lunch earlier that day. She had invited him, hoping that they could have a serious discussion about their plans and willing to entertain the idea of sharing a home. He did not bring it up, but he had brought her flowers and told her she was beautiful. Both of those had made her smile.

“The town is going to hold a dance,” her mother said. “A ball of sorts. Sort of a mix between our old world and this new one.” Folding over the coat hanger, she held the dress up to her daughter and smiled. “I think it will fit.”

“You are making me attend?” Emma asked, trying to ignore the silky feel of the material against her and the lace that was a favorite of hers. “I hated such things.”

“You don’t have to go,” her mother said, laying the dress over her arm. “It’s not required.” She looked back at the bag on her bed. “I only thought you would like to attend with Killian.”

Emma contritely pulled the dress from her mother’s arms and held it up to herself. “It’s beautiful, mother,” she said. “I love it. I never thought I would wear such a dress.”

Mary Margaret’s answer was drowned out by the sound of the crying baby and she rushed to his side. That left Emma to finger the soft material and lace. She was picturing herself spinning around the room in Killian’s arms, only briefly pondering if he did know how to dance. She did not bother to tell her mother that she had decided to attend, leaving the other woman to care for her son as Emma trotted up the stairs with the dress in her hands.

***AAA***

Killian ran his tongue over his lower lip as Emma sat next to him in the sitting room at Granny’s Bed and Breakfast. He had been reading some thick volume from the library that Belle French had reopened in town, getting lost in the language and the words that seemed more familiar than many of more modern pieces of culture. Emma had found him there with a few burning embers in the fireplace to help keep a bit of the chill off the spring night. She had stopped him as he went to close the book, accepting his kiss and then curling up next to him with her head on his shoulder and eyes falling shut.

“Read to me,” she half asked and half commanded. He called it her royal voice, demanding and forceful, but always with a serene smile on her face. Many times her use of it resulted in a blush and a look away from him with a quick apology. But he usually granted her request anyway.

He’s read only a few pages when he felt her breathing change. Thinking she was asleep, he quieted his voice and kissed the top of her head gingerly.

“Why did you stop?” she asked sleepily. “I like the story.”

“You’re tired,” he said, stating the obvious. “You need your rest.”

Lifting her head, she tried to shake the fatigue from herself. “I wanted to talk to you,” she said. “That’s why I came over, but you looked so peaceful here with your book that I wanted to be a part of it.”

“We can talk in the morning,” he answered. “The only decision for you is if you wish to spend the night here or should I escort you to your parents.”

She pointed with her chin toward the doorway at a duffle bag she had borrowed from her mother. “I came prepared,” she said. “If you will have me.”

“Always,” he told her, placing a small scrap of paper between the yellowed book pages and leaning forward to place it on the table. “You know that I love to have you here.”

She let her eyes drop to his lap, grinning gently at the faded denim of his pants that seemed a world away from the starched white, blue and gold uniform he had worn when they first met. His feet were encased in boots, but again they varied from his previous attire. “Do you have a suit?” she asked, startling even herself with the brusqueness of the question.

“A suit?” he asked, thinking of a suit of armor and misunderstanding her intent with the question. She appeared disappointed and he aimed to fix that. “For what purpose?”

“That someone might wear to a dance or ball or the name they call those events here.” She laughed. “Someone was telling me that they have such things in this realm and women ask men rather than the other way around. It is so different here.”

Killian chuckled merrily. “Are you asking me to this ball, Emma?”

“It is not that kind of event. Why? Did you wish for me to? I thought your gentleman sensibilities would be offended.” She leaned her head back on his shoulder and breathed in the spicy scent of him as her nose buried the fabric of his sweater.

“No sensibilities have been offended, love, but a man does like to be courted,” he feigned insult. “And your parents are organizing this event so it would stand to reason…”

“Very well,” she said, a touch of exasperation in her voice. Her head lifted back up and her cheeks became rosy as she uttered her invitation. “Do you wish to escort me to the ball?”

“I’d be honored,” he said, the mask of confusion returning as quickly as it left. “You will have to educate me, love. Since you are the one issuing the invitation, do you bring me flowers or hold open doors for me? Will you be walking me home that night?”

“You are impossible,” she moaned, slapping his chest playfully. He chuckled in response, capturing the slapping hand and hauling her closer to him.

He brought his mouth to hers, not yet touching her lips as he breathed in and out. She fidgeted, wanting to close the gap that he seemed determined to leave. He stayed in that close but not kissing position for several seconds as she whimpered. “Emma, I would love to go to this event with you. I hope you will allow me to dance with you as well.”

He still did not move to kiss her, distracting her from his words. “Do you know how?”

“Aye, I believe I do.” His lips touched hers with a feathery softness before they crashed onto hers with more fervor than she thought she could handle at the moment. Her hands on his chest and his pulling her close with her hips, she forgot her fear and let herself sink into his embrace.

***AAA***

“You have not asked her,” David said as Killian emerged from his job and got into the passenger seat of the truck the day before the dance was scheduled. Though Killian never asked for the ride back to the loft or to the bed and breakfast, David had begun to just happen to be driving by at the same time Killian left his job each day. It was just a coincidence, according to Emma’s father, a nice gesture to prevent him from walking along the sidewalks.

“She changes the subject when I try,” Killian said, his hand gripping the door as David turned a bit faster than necessary. “I procured a ring that reminded me of the one my mother wore and carry it with me everywhere, but I have not summoned the courage to ask her.”

“Do you intend my grandchild not to have your name?” David queried, keeping his eyes on the road much to Killian’s comfort. “I thought you believed in better honor than that.”

Killian’s hand remained firmly gripping the handle on the door and his eyes fixed ahead of him. “I would rather be married as we await our child, but your daughter is very stalwart. I do have to question your comments of propriety when you have said yourself that you would not mind our cohabitation if it pleased Emma.” He managed a side glance before he watched the winding road ahead. “It seems you serve two purposes.”

David chuckled. “You will find, Killian, that most of us are now sporting two sets of memories and ideas from two different realms. It is hard to reconcile that, but we’re doing the best we can. So the father in me, the prince, wants you married to my daughter to prevent ruin to her reputation and to keep her happy. The more modern me just wants to see her happy and content.” He beat out a slow rhythm on the steering wheel with his hands. “I will say as the father of Emma that I would prefer to walk her down the aisle before her condition is so obvious.” He cleared his throat.

Killian smiled, aware that a gentle swell had already become quite noticeable with Emma, a sight he relished and enjoyed. “I should think she would prefer that too,” he said quietly. “Very well. I may be shot down by your daughter, but I will ask her tomorrow night at this ball.”

David seemed satisfied with that and hoped that his wife would manage to hold back her enthusiasm to allow their daughter a simple ceremony that was probably more Emma’s preference. He was reaching for the radio when he heard Killian ask about the lone prisoner at the station.

“It is hard to know what is the appropriate punishment,” David admitted about his step-mother-in-law. “She is a threat if we let her out, but keeping her locked away is not a practical solution. We’ll have to work with the judge to determine justice in this situation. You and Emma should have a say too.”

***AAA***

Emma had to admit that getting ready for the dance the town was holding was much different than the preparations for the royal balls of her past. There were no lines of ladies in waiting or other assistance. It was simply she and her mother helping each other with hair and makeup and annoying buttons and zippers that made dressing alone an issue.

Wearing the cream and black dress her mother had picked, she smoothed her hands over the bodice as her mother zipped up the back. The A-line silhouette hit just above her knees, which was a change for a woman who still felt more comfortable in gowns that touched the floor than jeans and skirts of the more modern realm. It was strapless, which Emma had raised an eyebrow at until she saw other dresses women were wearing. The sweetheart neckline and bodice were the same cream colored fabric with black lace over it, ending in a black satin ribbon that circled her waist. Two other rows of black lace framed the hem. Her shoes were simple black with lower heels than Ruby had recommended but were comfortable and still gave her legs an even shapelier appearance. She’d pulled the sides of her hair up on top of her head and let the rest flow in soft golden curls down her back.

“I feel quite exposed,” she said to her mother, who brushed off the complaint by telling her that the dress was perfect.

She ran her hands down the front of the dress one more time before she spun from the mirror to face her mother. “I suppose that I’m ready,” she said.

“I’d say that you are,” Mary Margaret said, gesturing for her daughter to help her fasten her own necklace. The teacher was wearing a dress of deep blue that was a slip like silhouette with a lace overlay in a matching shade. A matching headband held back her short dark hair with a bit of glitter that reminded Emma vaguely of a tiara.

“I should stop comparing this to our days back home, but I can’t help it,” she said, her thumb opening the tiny clasp. “Both places are good homes.” Grabbing a hold of her mother’s shoulders, she turned her to face the mirror. “And you look beautiful, Mom.”

Calling one’s mother anything but mama or mother was not something Emma had grown up doing, but making the conscious effort was certainly worth it. Though none of them had actually grown up in Storybrooke, Mary Margaret still had the memories of someone who had. She appreciated the familiarity of the moniker.

Both women descended the stairs to Emma’s waiting father, his own suit modern and fitted perfectly across his broad shoulders. He kissed their cheeks in turn, complimenting how lovely they looked and how honored he was to be with them both.

“Where is Killian though?” he asked, shooting a glance at the clock in the kitchen. “I would have thought he would be here by now.”

Emma smiled nervously as she lifted a tiny nosegay of wild flowers that she had picked up earlier. Giving her mother a careful hug, she held the flowers and her clutch in one hand and headed to the door. “I am the one who asked him about the dance tonight,” she said, proud to remember to call it that rather than a ball. “I thought I should be the one to pick him up.”

She left her parents laughing and walked the short distance to the bed and breakfast, noting that some of the residents were pouring into Granny’s diner already in their dancewear. She chose to slip in through the side door and hurried up the stairs to the familiar door where she knocked and hid the small bouquet behind her back.

Killian must have been waiting at the door, she thought, as he answered it almost immediately. Like David, he had opted for the more modern attire. His jacket was well fitted and he had chosen not to wear a tie, leaving the top two buttons of his shirt undone. She watched him smile, but fidget a bit with his hand in his pocket and look of worry then relief on his face.

Her ring was in his pocket, though she had no way of knowing that. He had put the ring box in there first, having seen a few movies now that always showed the man dropping to one knee and flipping open a velvet box. Liam had become quite annoyed with his brother’s marathon of movies and had begun to criticize each in excruciating detail as Killian studied the techniques from serenading to holding a boom box over his head.

The ring box had created an unsightly bulge that Killian did not feel comfortable sporting. So he’d removed it from the box and placed it in his pocket with the tickets to the dance. Then he worried that it would accidentally slip out in his movements. Liam had just shaken his head as he watched his brother shift the platinum circle from one pocket to another and back again. “Just give her the ring, brother,” Liam had said before heading downstairs to collect his own date – a young red head who worked the morning shift at the diner.

“I brought these for you since you agreed to be my escort tonight,” she held out the flowers, smiling shyly as he had the first time he had brought her such an arrangement. “I believe you are the first man I have even brought flowers to or asked to be my escort.”

He chuckled, circling his hand over hers on the stems. “I believe these are the first flowers I have ever received from a lass. What is the appropriate way to accept them, love?” She told him that they needed water and helped him to arrange them in one of the glasses that Granny left out for drinks.

They managed to make it to the gym at the school, stopping to kiss only a few times. The room that had such an industrial feel was decorated elegantly with low lights and bright music. Emma could not hold back her sigh as she entered the room with Killian, his arm looped around hers and his eyes trained to her rather than their surroundings.

He had told her before that she was beautiful, even that evening calling her the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. But she never felt it more than at that moment as he waltzed with her around the floor that was usually used for sports. He was light on his feet and only a bit nervous at leading her through the dance with the eyes of the town either discretely or overtly watching them. She could see her parents whispering as he kissed her hand and she could see her mother’s allies – the dwarfs – watching protectively from their seats. But his eyes never left hers. Even when the dance called for him to bow, he did so with their eye contact in tact.

The room seemed to spin with them as the music swelled and she joined hands with him, his other hand curled around her hip and hers on his shoulder. Their breaths mingled in the slower moments, matching with intensity. At other times he would pull her tighter, whispering in her ear with his breath hot against her. He told her how he loved her hair like that and how he wished to hold her forever. She melted when he brushed his lips against her jaw and said he hoped that the song would never end.

After three dances he suggested a drink from the punch bowl, fighting through the crowds and returning with the red liquid that she managed to drink without spilling it on herself – a feat. He marveled at her ability to interact with everyone, a smile on her face, their names readily accessible, and her parents’ charm and wit. She was a royal in her blood, he thought as he watched her accept a cupcake from a woman who had been her nanny as a child.

“You’re quite good at that,” he said as they stepped outside into the courtyard after she complained that she was becoming overheated in the crowded room. “Your subjects love having you as their princess.”

She smiled tentatively, her eyes weakly acknowledging his statement. “I don’t wish to belong to them,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I worry that they will expect too much or that I will feel obligation that I cannot live up to with my abilities.”

He did not know how to respond, as he had not had such pressures on him. “Does it bother you when I call you my princess?” He ran a hand over the back of his head and rubbed at the spot around his neck and ear, nervously flicking his fingers as though it might break the tension inside. “I don’t wish to own you. You are your own person.”

“I would never imagine that you thought you did own me,” she answered seriously. “Your calling me yours has never been about possession.” She watched him expel a deep breath that seemed to have been caught in his throat. “I love that you consider me your princess. I don’t feel obligation to you, only love, Killian.”

He smiled, a bit more relaxed as they sat on a stone bench between two flowering bushes and listened to the music still playing inside the gym. The beat of it vibrated through the air and the low lights managed to escape and illuminate the building with almost a glow. “Then I shall call you my princess with pride,” he said, reaching to embrace her other had in his too. “I love that you are my princess, my love, my sweet Emma. I…” He breathed in deeply, smelling the flowers on the nearby bushes, the scent of the candles that lined the walkway, the dampness of the water in the fountain that sat in the courtyard, the floral soap that Emma used, and maybe his own fear. “I would call you whichever name that you wished, Emma. I will call you Emma, princess, milady, or whatever you deem to be appropriate, but most of all, my love, I hope to call you my wife. Will you marry me?”

She did not feel fear at the question, pushing aside the thoughts and doubts of what that future might look like. She offered him no flowery speech in return, her breath catching as he pulled the ring out of his pocket and hovered it at the tip of her finger. He did not ask again, but she could see the question in his eyes. Her right hand curved over his face, her head nodding before she even uttered the one word. He lit up with the realization as she finally said, “Yes.”

**_In my writing for school and my free time, I tend to write mystery and thriller type pieces. Romance is a little harder for me. So I hope you can appreciate the romance I have tried to add to this chapter, along with exploring what both Killian and Emma would be thinking in this situation._ **

**_I am resisting the urge to write a new story (a purely romantic story) that has been nagging at me for the past few days. With the baby coming soon, I know I cannot dedicate that much time to it, but we shall see. Maybe the idea will hold off until I am at home on my leave._ **


	49. Chapter 49

**_A/N: Thank you for your patience with this chapter. My ill-advised trip took a bit longer because never put a pregnant woman in a car for 9 hours. That is torture. However, it was a good one. Here is the final chapter._ **

**_I want to thank you for reading, commenting, arguing, enjoying, throwing rotten veggies, and more. This has been a fun story to write, as I got to write about two of my favorite characters without the jaded realism that we see them with so much. They were still tough fighters, but they were fun to explore in this different universe._ **

Emma’s mother was in her element as she welcomed guests to the wedding and poked her head in to make sure that her daughter was getting ready without too much trouble. It had been a rush to get ready, a hassle with a timetable that left them just two weeks to do everything for a ceremony that she and David had insisted be perfect for their princess daughter. Emma had not been as vocal about it, stating that she wanted simple elegance and just want wanted to be married to Killian.

“I’m afraid my dress uniform was not part of the items that made it to this realm,” Killian told his brother as the two men stood off to the side and waited for instructions from the royal couple. “I think it would have been more fitting.”

“This looks close enough,” Liam had said, grinning wildly at one of the guests who had waved at him. “Did you have it made?”

The younger brother chuckled, his hands brushing the front of the jacket’s blue fabric. “Emma conjured it up while practicing and trying to perfect her magic. This was how she remembered it.”

His expression growing serious, Liam glanced back at his nervous brother and patted his shoulder. “Then she remembered you as the dashing lieutenant that you were,” he said. “You know I’m proud of you, brother.”

Killian laughed even louder at that sentiment, causing a few more of the guests to look in their direction. “Proud of me? For what pray tell?”

Liam adjusted his own suit jacket, a more modern piece of attire. “You have loved her all along. Despite the fact that her family could have hated you for your impropriety, you’ve made her your priority. I have no doubt that there is nothing you wouldn’t do for her or her for you. That’s not easy to come by, little brother, I am proud that you fought for it.”

Killian was not sure whether to hit his brother or hug him, but elected that ageless hug with a rough pat on the back. “Wait until you see what else she has conjured up. You will be amazed.”

“I always am,” Liam said. “I always am.”

The late spring day had dawned clear and bright, a gentle breeze wafting up from the shoreline and the outdoor location perfect for the ceremony. Despite the intent to keep things intimate and quiet, the majority of the town had shown up for witnessing the nuptials. Both Killian and Emma had said they felt a bit embarrassed by all the attention, but there was little to be done to curb it.

“Almost time,” David said, approaching the tent where Emma was standing and letting her mother brush through her long blonde hair. “You ready?”

She spun to face him, the long ivory town was simple and sleek. It was curved around her neck with small cap sleeves. The fabric draped down her body and pooled into a tiny wisp of a train that made her comfortable and her mother happy. Her hair was curled as it had been at the dance, flowing down her back with a matching ivory ribbon that had been woven into the braid at the crown of her head. The pearl necklace and earrings shone with luster in the light and a sapphire pendant had been added to the necklace and rested just above the dress’s neckline. “I think so,” she told her father, shifting her bouquet to one hand and reaching out her other toward him. “Are you?”

“I’m trying to be,” he told her solemnly. “You look amazing, Emma. I’ve never seen a more beautiful bride, except for your mother.” He winked over Emma’s shoulder at his wife when she cleared her throat. “Killian is a lucky man.”

Emma smiled back at the man she had shared every first dance with and been her protector and guide. “You know that I’m lucky too,” she said. “I’m lucky to have Killian in my life.” The pointed statement was not unnoticed.

“You can’t expect the father of the bride to sing the praises of the groom,” he said teasingly. “But yes, I do know that. I may not have intended this outcome when I sent you on that ship, but I’d day that fate has delivered you right where you need to be.”

Blinking back a few tears, Emma smiled and said again that she was ready, suggesting that he alert the priest to be ready to perform the ceremony. No sooner had he scampered off and her mother turned her attention to her fussing brother than the flap of the tent opened again.

“Mr. Gold,” Emma said with a courteous nod to the man who leaned heavily on his cane. “I didn’t know if you would come or not.”

“Belle insisted,” he said, taking a step toward her. “She is sitting with friend now, but I wished to speak to you before the ceremony.” He clasped the handle of his cane with both hands, one over the other. “Please be assured that I mean you no harm.”

Emma nodded again. “I have been meaning to offer my thanks. I understand that you were helpful during my disappearance. You agreed to give my father and Killian the information they needed.” She had heard the story, heard that he had only agreed after they had revealed Belle to him. It could have been much worse.

He looked a bit amused at the praise. “I simply made a deal with them. Information to save you in exchange for my Belle. You can’t praise a business transaction.” His eyes studied her for a moment. “I have no doubt you would have found a way out of that predicament. You are more powerful than you realize.”

It might have been a moment to blush, but she did not, feeling mildly annoyed that he would say such a thing. “I’m not powerful,” she said softly. “My parents are the rulers of a kingdom or they were, but I’m just their daughter. I’m nobody.”

With a soft tsk under his breath, the man watched her try to turn back to the mirror. “I’m talking about your magic,” he said. “I know magic. I’ve seen it in many forms and incarnations. Regina, her mother, me, but the truth is that other than the fairies, I have trained or had a hand in developing the abilities of every magical entity. Yours comes from a different place, the result of true love.”

Emma considered this for a moment, though it was not new information. “I would rather not have it,” she admitted. “I would rather…”

“It could prove quite useful,” he interrupted, his hand pushing back his hair. “You seem to be the only one in this realm with this gift. It could be a key to going back home.”

Emma looked down at the white and silver sandals that she still needed to put on, her mind again racing. She could hear him backing away, giving up on her, she supposed. “Why did you come here?” she asked, her head moving up to meet his curious gaze.

“I told you that Belle…”

“No,” She said, interrupting him this time. “You were the most powerful man in all of Mist Haven. You could do anything with your magic. Why did you end up in Storybrooke? Surely you could have been spared the curse. You wanted something here, didn’t you? You wanted something…”

He frowned, now caught between the door and her gaze. “My son,” he said with a wry smile. “You see, dearie, time and space are a funny thing. There are paths, if you will, had things happened in a certain way, you would have been here in this realm before anyone else. You would have met my son and you would have had a child with him. But those were not the elements of our situation. Instead, you grew up the cherished and loved daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming rather than an abandoned fledgling. You fell in love with a naval lieutenant, who would have been a pirate had it not been for this path. I, my dear, came here for one purpose. I wanted to reunite with my son. But unfortunately, I was not able to complete that task.”

Emma’s head swam with what he was telling her. Outside she could hear the string music beginning to play and knew that her time with him was limited. “Where is your son?” she asked softly.

“He had died by the time we arrived in this world. I had hoped…I was too late. Without magic, I had no recourse and no power to change the events of our lives. You do.”

“I can’t control it,” she said honestly, thinking of the number of times she had come up empty even though she had concentrated so hard that sweat broke out on her brow and her palms had marks from her finger nails. “The desire is there, but not the skill.”

In a move that reeked of placation, he smiled warmly and spread one of his hands wide. “It isn’t about wanting necessarily. Concentration doesn’t bring about the results in magic. It is simpler and more complex than that. It is a mixture of desire, skill, and longing.”

She could not help the frown that deepened on her mouth. She was the picture of youth and beauty in her gown, a shining jewel in the crown, but she was also feeling quite helpless. “I’m sorry about your son,” she said, not sure what the correct way to offer condolences would be in this situation. “I am not sure that I can help you though.”

“Even magic has its limits,” he said plainly. “You cannot make someone fall in love with someone else, you cannot resurrect the dead, and you cannot violate free will.”

Emma could hear the list and intellectually knew that he was correct. But she could pinpoint the reason for his visit. “What do you want of me?”

“I was prepared to live my life in this land without magic with my son by my side. I wanted him to know what I had given up for him, but he’s gone. There is no reason for me to be here.” He heard a loud sound outside as geese passed overhead. He waited. “I wish to go back to my home and live out my life as the Dark One. It is my fate.”

He smiled softly as she weighed his words carefully. “You want me to open a portal?”

“You’re the only one I know who can.”

***AAA***

All thoughts of portals, returns, and different realms were pushed aside as Emma walked down a makeshift aisle toward a rather nervous looking Killian. Liam stood to his side, a hand on his shoulder and a look of bemusement on his face. The music was soft and almost so ethereal that it blended in with the natural sounds of the shoreline, waves acting a percussion accompaniment and the breeze carrying it all along over the guests.

His right hand was reaching for her before she even reached him, eager for the point of contact, his skin against hers. She let her father act as he had wanted, his hand placing Emma’s hand into Killian’s and squeezing them both as if to give his final approval before the priest even spoke. Except for the quick kiss to Emma’s cheek by her father, she never let her eyes leave Killian’s.

They both said the right things, reciting vows that were strikingly familiar in either realm. Emma could not recall the exact words, nor could Killian. For them it was a moment about each other, ignoring the rest of the world in an effort to start their lives with quiet promises, traditions, and love. The ring sliding over her finger felt warm from Liam’s hand and Killian’s. Her own fingers were shaking as she slid his ring into place. Even their kiss – their first as husband and wife – was something of a spectacle, given that it was only meant to be a chaste seal of their union.

He brought his hand to the back of her head, fingers getting tangled and lost in the golden curls. His lips brushed hers three times before he kissed her sweetly and firmly. He later admitted that he heard the gasps of the attendees and wondered if the sight of them kissing was such a phenomenon. They had kissed in almost every location in Storybrooke, hardly hiding their affections despite Granny’s protests and David’s averted eyes even before he realized Emma was his daughter.

Pulling back, their eyes filled with colors and it took a full second to realize the source of the wash of tint that was before them. Hundreds of butterflies were floating and flittering in the sunlight around them. Many of the witnesses were reaching out hands to allow the flying creatures to land on fingers and let the velvety wings tickle their skin. Emma giggled, her eyes dancing with Killian’s as she admitted a whisper that she had been thinking how free she felt to stand with him there and how she’d pictured a butterfly as they had kissed. Obviously her magic had been listening.

***AAA***

The bride did not partake in the champagne that was served at the reception. While Killian was under no restriction, he stood in solidarity with her and upon his own practices not to imbibe too heavily. He held a simple champagne flute in one hand and wrapped his other arm around his wife’s waist. If her parents were upset at losing a daughter, they did not express it. The only insistence from Mary Margaret was that Emma please eat something so as to ward off a light headedness that would surely follow.

“We don’t have to dance, if you don’t wish to,” Emma said, whispering after she turned her head to kiss his cheek. “I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“You could use your magic and wish for me to be as graceful of a swan as you are, love,” he said with a chuckle. “But I think you might be surprised.”

She did not like the feel of everyone’s eyes on her, but she ignored them as Killian bowed to her as crisply as she had ever seen. His form and technique was perfect as he waltzed her about the small space, cradling her in his arms and leading her with expert precision. As each step ebbed and flowed with delicacy, she honestly wondered if she was floating and hoped never to land.

“I was about to address you as my beautiful princess,” he said with a short laugh. “But then I thought better of it. I must say you are the perfect dance partner, my beautiful wife.”

“You could have told me that you knew how to dance,” she accused as the last strains of music carried forward. “I would not have worried, my husband.” A smile spread quickly across his face at the way she addressed him.

“My mother taught me the basics when I was a wee lad,” he said. “And your mother and Ruby have given me more instruction so that I was comfortable.” He looked truly proud as she complimented him, telling him that no prince could have danced any better. Chest puffed out a bit, he led her off the dance floor and to her father.

It was a different, but still beautiful experience to dance with her father with tears continuing to build. She could see in his eyes that he was picturing the little girl who had stayed up past her bed time to hear tales of some royal ball she had not been allowed to attend. Too short to dance properly, he carried her about the room in sweeping steps and told her she was light on her feet. She remembered the first ball she had attended and how she had hoped for a dance with some dashing prince or knight, but it was her father who had danced with her and told her that he was not ready to share her with a world of suitors just yet.

“Find a man who loves you as your father loves me,” he mother had said. “It will be all that matters.”

***AAA***

Honeymoons like her parents’ experience had been more than month of travel and getting accustomed to a life together. Killian had told her that theirs would be shorter, given the constraints of Storybrooke. He’d planned a small get away on one of the boats that he had found in the harbor and planned to keep it anchored just off shore.

Emma had plans of her own. One of the things she had succeeded at most with her magic was the ability to conjure up objects. Most of them had been small. But her largest to date was the Jewel of the Realm. “I know that your brother misses both his seafaring life and the ship he called home since he became a man,” Emma had told him as they walked to the docks just a day before the wedding. “It’s not quite the same, but it is close.”

In awe of her abilities as well as her need to do something nice for both him and his brother, Killian had spun her around there on the dock and smiled like a child on the first day of summer.

“Would you like to take a walk on deck as we did when we first met?” she asked. “There are no crew members with mal intent for me, but I think I would like the company.”

That was how they spent their last afternoon before the rehearsal dinner and eventual parting until the wedding. Holding hands and walking about the ship, looking out onto the ocean that loomed outside the harbor and talking about the future, the past, and the present.

“I lived for those moments,” she said, trying to hold the mass of her hair as the wind whipped at it. His hands immediately went to help her. “I tried to pretend that I hated you, but I looked forward to each time you came to my cabin. You might have noticed.”

Her hair now under control, he pulled her back to his chest and wrapped his arms around from behind, letting them linger at the evidence of their growing child. His chin sat on her shoulder. “I could not have noticed,” he assured her, feeling her gentle weight against him. “I was too busy trying to hide my own feelings for you.”

“You did a bad job at that,” she laughed. “I knew.”

“Aye,” he said, tightening his grip. “It was a horrible task.”

***AAA***

“Your brother did not mind our using the ship for our honeymoon?” Emma asked, one hand holding the railing when she found him on the deck staring at the star filled sky.

They had been married for a little more than 10 hours and already found that matrimony agreed with their dispositions. A blissfully sated Emma had awoken to an empty cabin, but knew exactly where her husband was, since there were few places for escaping on such a vessel. Pulling one of the thick robes she had procured from her stay at Granny’s out of her bag, she wrapped herself in the softness and knotted the belt at her waist. Padding softly on the deck’s wood, she found him with his head thrown back as he gazed upward at the blanket of the sky.

“We shall return it to him in time,” he said, breaking his gaze to look at her tangled hair and shining eyes. “I would hope that he understands our need for a private getaway.”

“I’m sure he does,” she said, going up on tiptoes to kiss him. “We may not be able to travel very far, but you always seem quite at home on the water.” She mused over his placated expression, and the gentleness of his breath as he pulled her nearer to him, sitting on the rail and settling her on one leg.

“I would take you anywhere you wished to go, my love, if only it were possible.”

She placed her left hand on his chest, her eyes looking at the ring set that was now complete on her hand. “I can’t quite believe we are truly husband and wife now,” she admitted. “It seems like a dream.”

“Perhaps we are having the same one,” he said. “I have felt as though I was dreaming since you first let me kiss you. I just knew I would wake up with my lips pressed to a pillow.”

She cocked her head to the side and looked upon him curiously. “Are you saying I kiss like a sack of goose feathers?” she tried to hold a stern mouth, but failed at the rush of color onto his cheeks. “I should hope not or else I will wonder about your taste in a wife.”

He did not answer her, pulling her face to his so that he could kiss her, a languid and searching kiss that seemed to warm them both against the chill from the watery breeze. “So much better than a sack of feathers,” he told her as they parted. “Kissing my wife is an amazing experience.”

They sat there enjoying the sounds of the lapping water and crack of the sails in the air. Kisses shared, arms looped about each other, there were no worries of limited time or feelings of guilt that they should be breaking a curse or spending time with her parents. She was not thinking about baby brothers or friends who did not remember her. There was only them in that moment. It would not last forever, but for then it was enough.

She stood up, her hand lingering in his as she tugged at him to join her. Wordlessly she pulled him along as they climbed down the ladder and back to the bed where they appreciated the intimacy of a married life and the freedom of loving one another without reservation.

***AAA***

Morning finally broke and the sunlight through the cabin’s lone window crept up the bed toward the couple with long fingers. Emma clenched her eyes shut and buried herself into his chest for both protection and warmth. He groaned at the sun’s intrusion, but pulled her to him as well.

“I suppose we should rise and greet the day,” he muttered, his lips feeling a bit dry. “The air has changed. Perhaps I should see what is the matter. We may be in for a storm.”

Reluctant to let him go, she reminded him that they were not far from shore and that she was determined to enjoy more time with him before the day’s activities took them away.

“I will return promptly,” he said, dropping a kiss on her forehead and then lips as he pulled on a pair of pants. “I would be remiss if I ignored signs of inclement weather.”

He did not return right away. Instead his voice echoed along the corridor of the ship’s interior with a rush of panic. “Emma, hurry.”

Sheet wrapped around her, she struggled up the ladder and joined him, watching his paled face more than the horizon. “What is it, Killian?”

He instinctively moved to hold her protectively and pointed into the distance. “Look, there,” he said, “Does it not look familiar?”

Pulling her eyes from his, Emma glanced over the blue green water and toward the scene in front of her. She pulled back from him, her lower jaw dropping in surprise. She spun almost too quickly toward what should have been the skyline of Storybrooke. Instead she saw a village and in the distance the towering spires of her parents’ palace. “Where…we’re…”

“We’re home,” he said in a soft voice that still brought her undivided attention. “It appears that we’re home.”

**_A/N: There will be plenty of answers in the epilogue posted later this week. I'll also be updating my newest fic - Summer of Surprise tomorrow._ **


	50. Chapter 50

It had been storming for two days in Mist Haven, leaving the road between the palace and the seaside village muddy and hard to travel. However, Snow had determined there was no time to waste to get them to the docks where their daughter would be arriving at any moment. While David had complained that they should have left earlier, she had shown no worry on regret at her timing and only confidence in the team of drivers and guards who would accompany them.

The young prince laid sleeping in his mother’s arms, safely tucked into a blanket that had been one of the many gifts upon their return to their kingdom. David looked proudly on and spoke of how much he missed their only daughter, hoping that she was safe and secure when they arrived. Both of them had assumed that Emma would have remained at the castle with them through her pregnancy, but she had refused and defied convention. She and Killian had set sail on a ship that she had managed to conjure up for just them to inspect the rest of the kingdom, as well as settle a few diplomatic matters. With only a few weeks to go before the baby’s arrival was due, the couple had sent word that they would be returning to her childhood home.

The crown prince and princess had been as surprised as everyone to wake up on the morning after Emma and Killian’s wedding to find themselves back in their former lives. It had taken several days of questions, investigations, and a few failed attempts to figure out what had happened. Not everyone was back, but it was determined that only those who had expressed a desire to return were transported. Emma had admitted that on her wedding night she had dreamed of a life with her husband and family in the land she was most familiar with and loved. Just as suddenly as they had arrived, Emma’s wish had been granted and they had found themselves in familiar surroundings.

“Have you heard from Liam?” Snow asked, her voice low so as not to wake the baby - Leopold David.

“He sent word that he’d be back in time for his niece or nephew’s arrival,” he said, just as quietly. “I think he is enjoying his new commission quite a bit.”

Liam had told David that he was most at home on the sea, but without his brother at his side he was unsure how he would enjoy it. Killian had been adamant that he would not return to the navy, preferring to keep himself closer to Emma. While David had scoffed that his new son-in-law would give up his commission, he admitted that the younger brother’s devotion to his daughter was admirable. However, Emma being Emma had refused to allow her husband to give up his vocation simply to please her. She had conjured up another ship just for them and told her father that she was going to take on all diplomatic and trade missions now and after the baby was ready to travel.

***AAA***

Emma stood on deck and listened to the gulls cawing, another indication that land was near. The wind whipped at her hair and her dress, but she remained still as she watched the mass of land grow closer, its familiar skyline with the village’s buildings growing larger. She could hear her husband giving instructions, stowing gear and estimating their arrival. His voice was calm and sure, as she had come to realize he always sounded when it was not her that he was worrying over.

She lifted her chin slightly, letting the warmth of the sun burn down on her. She was well aware that she would be unable to accompany him for a few months as they awaited the arrival of their child and then as she recovered childbirth. While she would certainly miss the smell of the salty air and the mist of the water on her skin, she knew that it would be worse for Killian. He seemed so at ease on this ship, so in love with every aspect of it. The contrast between this version of him and the way he had been those few times her parents had invited him to a royal function had been stark.

“Shouldn’t you be resting,” he said, his arm around her and hand resting on the swell that was so obvious now she felt her baby entered the room before she did. It was not so much a question as a statement. “Love?”

“My mother will probably have me in bed until the baby comes with people doing everything for me,” she said. “Let me enjoy this time just being your wife and not a princess.”

He chuckled. “You know that I will stand up to your mother and let you behave any way that you please.” He gave her his best brave smile, but she knew that he was no match for her determined mother who had practically made him cower in Storybrooke upon learning of her daughter’s condition and his role in it. He had told her that Emma did not want a large guest list. That had not worked either.

“I think you overestimate your ability to negotiate with my mother,” she laughed. Her breath caught as the baby moved with a sharp kick that she could have sworn was attacking some internal organ. “And I think our child agrees with me.”

“She is easier to convince than you,” he said, earning an eye roll at referring to their child as a girl. “You are the one who has insisted on each one of these trips. Each time we return to Mist Haven you are having new supplies loaded and waking me in the middle of the night to tell me of some new venture for us.”

“You haven’t complained,” she said. “I think you’ll miss our time together on this ship as much as I will.” His eyes always looked a bit sad as they arrived at a destination no matter how short of a time they planned to stay.

Lifting her left hand, her kissed her knuckles and ran his thumb over her wedding and engagement ring. It still shocked him that he was married to such a woman, royalty or not. She was far more than he had ever thought he would get. From her beauty to her intelligence, he marveled every day over her, thanking any deity who might listen for the blessing. Even with a child on the way, he still had a hard time imagining that she would lower herself to be his friend let alone his wife.

“Your son is kicking me to death,” she said, mock seriousness evident on her face.

“We don’t know if the child is a boy or a girl,” he reminded her gently. “The instruments that could determine that are not here in this realm.” His hands were rough against the light floral print of her dress.

“I know I’m having a boy,” she declared, her chin and jaw set in a familiar look of defiance. He had told her time and again he believed their child to be a girl with his dark hair and her nose and chin. She was convinced she was carrying a boy with blonde curls and the bluest eyes that anyone had ever seen. She was picturing a little boy with a lopsided smile who followed his father around in perfect adulation. A daughter would be fine too, though she feared that between Killian, her father, and Liam, the little girl would be spoiled.

“We’ll confirm your suspicions soon enough,” he told her.

 

By that afternoon they were standing before her parents, accepting hugs and claps to the shoulder as they exchanged news and learned of the latest happenings in each others’ lives. Emma insisted upon a walk, which her mother had declared much too strenuous, but being her predictably stubborn self, she had Killian and her father accompany her on a short stroll and soaked up a bit of the sunshine.

“Any idea of where you would like to live?” David asked, delicately broaching the subject with his daughter. A formerly unused wing of the castle had been outfitted for them and David had more than once listed the properties owned by the crown. Emma had refused to settle in on any one of them. The father looked toward his son-in-law with a note of desperation, hoping that his daughter’s husband would talk some sense into her. However, here they were with weeks until the baby’s due date and no decision had been made.

“Some place close to the water,” Emma said, supplying one of the only clues into her thoughts. “We’ll know it when we see it.”

Killian smiled sympathetically at her father and warned him not to bring up the subject of baby names either. Emma was classically indecisive on that matter too. His warning earned him a playful swat from his wife.

***AAA***

Snow was probably the happiest of the family to be back in the Enchanted Forest. She and Red had set about making sure everyone and everything was settled in nicely. David, Liam, and Killian had been wary of what they would do with the Evil Queen, but Emma had taken after her mother in that regard and refused to have her executed for any of the crimes from the curse. Instead, her magic had been bound and she was currently living a quiet but bitter life in the country under the watchful eye of some of the guards.

“You didn’t wish her to be punished more severely?” Red had asked upon news of the decision.

“Her prison is of her own making,” Emma had said. “She currently feels trapped only because she has not allowed herself to embrace her new life. One day she’ll see.”

Rumpelstiltskin was another matter entirely. He was the Dark One and capable of much more destruction than Emma or any of the magic wielding citizenry could contain. So it had been Emma’s suggestion that they keep an eye on him as a diplomatic issue rather than a magical one. She visited with him from time to time and relied on Belle’s influence and knowledge to keep the threat of him at bay. So far that had been successful. He had even offered to train her in magic, but she had refused and said she did not wish for that ability and trait to define her.

“Your daughter is coming into her own,” Red said when she arrived at the castle two days after Emma and Killian had returned. The gardens, which had been untended during the kingdom’s absence, were overflowing with flowers of every type. Their scents mixed into a heady perfume that wafted through the cold and drafty corridors of the castle.

Red smiled affectionately at her friend’s daughter who was reclined on one of the chaises that had been set out on a stone decorated patio for the royal family. The blonde’s hands were folded around a book that rested on her rounded abdomen and her laugh could be heard echoing throughout the garden as she read some passage she had found silly to her husband.

Killian looked flabbergasted and amused as the set of balanced swords now shone with a luster he’d never seen. He and David had been sharpening swords and discussing Killian’s latest lessons when Emma, who had found magic coming much more easily since her pregnancy had progressed, waved her hand and completed the job for them.

“Emma,” David half-admonished. “If I wanted someone else to do it, I would have brought in part of the staff. I thought that Killian and I could use the practice. Should we ever have another war, I wouldn’t want us wanting for a good valet to win the battle.”

Emma shrugged innocently and turned her eyes back to the book. “Perhaps you would have to take me with you,” she teased. “I was merely trying to be useful.”

“You are, darling,” Killian offered encouragingly. “And I’m pleased that this time was on purpose.”

Snow laughed as she and Red took seats across from Emma. It had been quite a running joke that Emma’s powers were becoming haywire as her hormones fluctuated. Emma no longer had to concentrate or specifically wish for something. At times it was only a mere thought that brought about unexpected results.

Killian had noticed it while they had been sailing for another kingdom. Emma had been resting, feeling a bit homesick and talking of how she missed walking in the woods close to the castle. When he had returned from checking on the crew, he’d found her sleeping away with four rabbits and a deer now looking on in their cabin.

On the carriage ride back to the castle just two days ago, Emma had commented that she hoped the buttercups would still in bloom when they arrived. A single sneeze later and the mother-to-be’s arms were filled with the yellow flowers.

However, it was not always a good result. In one incident of the few moments that she and Killian had disagreed over something silly, she had told him that she did not wish to hear his voice again that night. The former lieutenant went silent and the on ship medic could find no reason for the malady. No amount of pleading to her own magical prowess had resulted in a cure until the night had passed and his voice returned as easily as it disappeared.

None of her family and friends could fully explain to Emma why her magic was behaving that way, but most attributed it to her pregnancy. Despite her warnings to him that he might bear the brunt of her unintentional designs, Killian had remained steadfast by her side with a sense of humor about the whole thing.

The castle’s governess brought the young prince out to his mother, who was admittedly more hands on with her son than she had been with Emma. “I think it was almost losing him and never even knowing he existed,” she told her daughter. “It doesn’t speak to my love for you though.”

Emma had assured her mother she was fine with her role as a big sister. “I feel lucky sometimes that I got to know you during the curse,” Emma said that first night back in the castle. “You were my mother for all my life, but now I consider you a friend too.”

“Me too,” her mother agreed. “I’m lucky to call you my daughter and my friend.”

***AAA***

“Captain Jones,” David greeted from the garden path. He had spotted his son-in-law’s brother rushing up the path upon the news that his new niece or nephew should be arriving any moment. Snow had sent some of the knights to escort the naval captain back, but he had outrun them all and was glistening with a sheen of sweat for his efforts.

The prince chuckled, keeping his own nervousness at bay and offered to show the man to the guest room and have a bath drawn for him.

“I have not missed it?” he asked, looking about the garden wildly as though Emma, Killian, and their child might appear before him.

“No, and I dare say Emma is not up for an audience at the moment. Red, my wife, and your brother are with her and the doctor right now. I have been receiving infrequent updates, but from tale of it things are going well. You should be an uncle rather soon.”

Liam nodded his head and breathed out in relief that he was keeping his promise to his brother to be there for the birth of the newest Jones, even if he or she would be a royal. “How do you stay so calm, your highness?” he asked, following the man into the guest quarters arranged for him. “I daresay you are the calmest grandfather I have yet met.”

A glint in his eyes, David tapped the on his vest to let the captain hear a tin sound. “I’m not much of a drinker usually,” he said with a chuckle, “but I think my first grandchild being on the way calls for it.”

“If it takes much longer, we should wait at a tavern,” Liam said. “Actually, that will be my treat for my brother. After this child is born and safely resting with its mother, I’m taking the two of you for a drink to celebrate.”

“That, Liam, sounds like a plan,” David announced and finished leading him into the spacious room.

***AAA***

Emma looked apologetic as the windows cracked in the force of her magic. Her hair damp with sweat and her skin pale from the pain and exertion of childbirth, her head lolled against the bank of pillows behind her as she moaned with agonized frustration.

“You’re doing beautifully,” her mother said, her tone soothing. She dabbed at her daughter’s forehead with a cloth and smiled. “Don’t worry about the windows. We can fix them.”

“We’re just about ready for you to push,” the doctor said, his kindly face much more wrinkled and aged than Victor’s had been. “You’re going to have to work with me here, Emma.”

She had no words for how little she wanted to do this. There was no turning back, but the whole thing seemed quite overwhelming for her. She felt as though her eyes had to be pried open, staring at the kind, concerned, and in Killian’s case awestruck expressions. He placed a kiss to her sweaty temple.

“You’re thinking good thoughts, right, love?” he asked. She knew he was trying to keep her magic at bay so they could finish this task, but she had to grimace at his choice in timing. The day after they were married, the day they had arrived back in Mist Haven, he had been the one to realize it was her thoughts, dreams, and wants that had brought them back. Sparked by their union that night, it had been enough magic to make this transport happen. Since then he had asked of her thoughts before he so much as kissed her.

Eyes locked on his and hands gripped like vices, she felt the searing pain and then an emptiness that threatened to consume her until the first cries of the baby. They both looked at the same time to see their child wailing and fighting entry into the world. With a whoosh of air out of her lungs, she collapsed back half into his shoulder and half into the pillows and emitted a sob.

“My son,” she whispered as the baby’s face came into her view.

“I’m afraid not,” the doctor said with a bemused glance at Snow who was open mouthed and about to say something. “Your highness, I present to you a beautiful baby girl. You have a daughter.”

If Killian had not been already so enthralled with his daughter’s bright blue eyes and shock of black curls, he might have laughed at his wife’s confused expression on hearing that the baby was a girl. Instead, he watched in awe as the baby’s wails quieted and her body molded itself against Emma as she was placed in her mother’s arms.

“Emma,” he said, his voice sounding little more than a breath. “We have a daughter.” His head bowed over the sight and his words sounded in broken bits. “Thank you.”

Emma nodded, her fingers touching the baby’s hand that had escaped the not so tight swaddle. “We do have a daughter,” she said in the same breathy voice. She lifted her eyes up from the sight of her daughter long enough to catch Killian’s loving gaze. “You do realize this is a bad time to say I told you so, right?”

***AAA***

Killian had to practically be pried away from his wife and daughter’s side, but finally at much insistence that mother and child should take the opportunity to rest he was persuaded. Both slept and Killian was entertained by his brother and father-in-law while Emma was lying with her daughter. She found herself fascinated by the baby’s blue eyes and watching her fight the sleep that was clearly overtaking her.

“I’d say that motherhood agrees with you,” David said, peeking his head into the room. “I’m only here for a moment, but I wanted to see my daughter and granddaughter.” He chuckled at the word that felt odd on his tongue. His clothes were a bit rumpled and Emma could smell the dampness of an afternoon rain on him.

“Come meet her,” Emma said, shifting the weight of the new princess in her arms. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

“I’d say the second most beautiful infant princess I have ever seen,” he said warmly. “You and Killian have done a good job with that little girl.”

He kissed the top of his daughter’s head, walking backwards to the tufted stool his wife had sat on earlier. Shaking his head, he tried to ignore the pangs of nostalgia as he looked at her, remembering the rough and tumble princess, the little girl who cried in the dark, the one who had wanted so to be normal, and the one who thought she would never find love like her parents’. All of those images wavered in his mind and flowed into the beautiful wife and mother before him.

“I know you aren’t much for labels,” David said, resting his hands on his knees. “It’s something you have fought against your whole life, but I think this one will suit you just fine.”

“And what is that?” Emma asked, taken in by the baby’s yawn.

“Mother,” David said, shaking his head. “You are my daughter, Emma. And even when I reluctantly gave you away in marriage to that sailor, I knew that you were still my daughter. I imagined and experienced all sorts of things with you. First steps. Your first ball. Teaching you to ride a horse. Teaching you to fight. I wanted to give you everything and make you fight to keep it. I imagined your first words, your first courtship. I pictured your wedding day. But I never quite could picture this. I couldn’t picture my baby girl having a baby. And now…” He smiled at her with tears threatening to fall from his eyes. “And now I can’t picture you without her.”

Emma’s own cheeks were streaked with tears as David leaned forward to admire his granddaughter. “We were thinking of naming her after grandmother,” Emma said. “Ruth.” She smoothed the blanket with her right hand. “And after mother.”

David ran his knuckles down the side of the baby’s cheek and breathed in the scent of talcum in the air. His brow furrowed as he considered Emma’s statement. “You’re thinking Snow Ruth or Ruth Snow?” he asked, unsure how that would sound in the royal decree.

Emma giggled, grimacing slightly. “While we could do that,” she said, looking up through her lashes at her father, “we were thinking about mother’s Storybrooke name. Margaret, to be specific. I was thinking Margaret Ruth.” She turned her head to regard her daughter as if the infant might provide a clue as to if that was her proper name.

“Maggie,” David said, providing the nickname. “I think that is a wonderful idea.”

“Are you sure?” Emma’s mother said from the doorway. “Do we really want a reminder of our cursed time?” Her arms were full with flowers that had been picked by some of the staff and a blanket dropped off by one of the citizens who was awaiting the news of the birth like everyone else.

“She comes from that time,” Emma reminded them in a soft tone. “And I think that a reminder of the love and friendship between mother and daughter and the love of a mother to her son is a perfect way to name our daughter.”

“I agree,” David said, laughing at his wife’s expression that she wore whenever he gave in to their daughter’s whims. “I only have one request.”

“What’s that?” Emma asked.

“Your husband is a good man on the sea. He’s a brave officer and certainly a good man to teach and mold his daughter into a fine young woman – royalty or not, but may I have the honor of teaching her to ride a horse?”

Emma and her mother exchanged a look.

“I got distracted,” David said, standing up. “Your husband will be back momentarily. He and his brother and I decided to celebrate the birth of young Maggie with a pint with the dwarves. Your husband does not hold his liquor well. He fell off his horse.”

Emma gasped and Snow looked alarmed. “Is he alright? Was it a serious riding accident?”

“It wasn’t quite a riding accident,” David explained. “He’s fine. He’s getting cleaned up and he’ll be in momentarily.” He chuckled at the memory and then silenced himself under the harsh glare of both his wife and daughter. “He was so anxious to return to you that Liam stayed to pay the tab and I accompanied him out to the horses. I noticed he was a bit off balance, but I didn’t realize that he was not in full control. He fell over the horse trying to mount him. He became quite familiar with the ground and the mud there.”

While Snow still appeared appalled and dropped the items she was carrying to rush off in search of her son-in-law to see to his well-being herself, Emma’s expression relaxed some. “You promise he is fine?” she asked. “I am no fragile that you have to lie to me.”

“I promise,” he said. “If anything his pride will be bruised.”

***AAA***

Killian held his daughter against his chest and paced the length of the sitting room as behind closed doors Emma received some assistance with the gown she was to wear for the naming ceremony for their daughter. Despite many warnings that the constant attention would spoil their child, Killian found it almost impossible to let go of her. As David had told him would happen, the birth of his daughter had narrowed his focus and priorities to his wife and daughter almost singularly. He seemed ever vigilant for any danger that might threaten them and sensitive to their every need.

“It is a hard thing to see my little brother as a father,” Liam said, joining Killian in his full dress uniform. The older brother tugged on his collar a bit and stared down at his niece. “Don’t tell Emma this, but I believe little Maggie looks like you.”

Killian laughed, hearing Emma call out to him and telling her that he would be there in a moment. He raised his eyebrow at his brother. “As your younger brother,” he said, stressing that their differences were in age not size, “I am glad that my daughter has taken after Jones side of the family. While she is a princess, she is a Jones.”

“That she is, brother,” Liam answered, bravely putting on a confident face as Killian handed him the baby. It was not the first time he had held her, as Emma had insisted that Maggie become well acquainted with her grandparents and uncle. Killian gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and rushed into the room where Emma was currently located.

“I can’t believe such a little lass would be the cause of such a fuss,” he said. “Half the kingdom has already expressed their congratulations on your birth and the other half are working on plans to do so. I know that your parents have even received wedding proposals for you, but they would never force you into such an arrangement. You are a very lucky lass.”

Maggie’s eyes seemed fixed on him as though she was listening to his words and understanding them. Her dark hair and lashes seemed in full contrast to the white gown she wore and equally as small lace cap. She seemed so delicate and fragile with her tiny features, but Emma had insisted that she was tough as nails. Knowing Killian and Emma, he had no doubts as to Maggie’s tenacity.

He could hear nothing on the other side of the door, but pushed forward anyway in the opposite direction. The baby seemed to like the movement. “You must do me a favor, little one,” he said. “You must be sure to watch after you papa, as I won’t be able to that from so far away. I will come back to visit, but you must take over for me. Your mama will take care of him and ensure that he is safe, but you little one, you are in charge of his happiness. You give that brother of mine a reason to smile every day. That’s your job.”

On the other side of the door, Emma and Killian heard none of Liam’s words to Maggie. Instead they were wrapped up in their own final preparations. Emma adjusted Killian’s cravat, smoothing the silk with her palm and smiling up at him as he sighed.

“I hate that you must do this,” she said. “I didn’t think when I agreed.”

Killian kissed her forehead and covered her hand with his on his chest. “There are responsibilities,” he said, sounding formal and stoic, “that come with loving a princess. If dressing up and parading myself with you on my arm is a part of that then I would be daft not to agree. And the same goes for being the father of our daughter. If being her father means that I must endure formality and tradition, then I am all in.”

Her smirk was evidence that she did not fully believe him. “You live for formality,” she reminded him. “You were an excellent officer. I always felt safe with you.”

“You did?” he asked, the teasing of his voice something that she always enjoyed. “I thought you were smarter than that. For I was not very formal with you. I was quite careless, I’m afraid.” Her dress was of the deepest blue and her hair was piled high onto her head with curls cascading downward as though she had just been caught after a long run. His fingers wrapped one curl around his hand. “Every day I am surprised you had anything to do with me at all, love.”

“Someday I’ll convince you that we aren’t that different from one another,” she said. “In the meantime, perhaps we should enjoy a moment without Maggie and then go rescue your brother from her clutches? She does seem to be able to soften anyone’s heart.”

“She gets that from you,” he said, one hand on her hip, pulling her closer to him. “I know that you did that to me practically from the moment I met you. Our daughter appears to have the same wiles.”

Emma scoffed at his remarks. “But she looks just like you,” she said. “I see none of myself in her, only her dashing and devilishly handsome father. It may be your own charm you are seeing reflected back at you.” The bells of the cathedral were already ringing and in her own mind becoming more persistent. A calmness had descended over the land and truthfully their daughter appeared to be the most pressing issue of that time.

“Can I not share one kiss with my wife beforehand,” he said as she pulled from his embrace to walk into the sitting area. She smiled as his lips descended toward hers, slow and deliberate. When he stopped, his breath still warm on her and his hands still holding her to him.

Her eyes flew open to be greeted by his, a bemused question on his tongue. “What is it, Killian?”

He did not release her, but his head tilted back so that he might look at her more carefully. “I just wondered what you were thinking about, Emma. Is it a pleasant thought? I wouldn’t want to kiss you and something go wrong today.”

Her laugh was exasperated as she watched his dimples grow deeper. “I was thinking about us and how I hope we live happily ever after,” she said earnestly. “I don’t want riches or anything else that is fleeting. I simply want to live and love you and our daughter. I want our happiness to be our reward.”

He smiled. “Then that is something we should kiss to, love.” And they did.

**_A/N: I want to thank everyone for sticking through a fic that grew longer than I thought it would and changed in so many ways from its original idea. I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for letting me share it with you._ **

 


End file.
